


If Wishes Were Horses

by exarkhos



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Language, M/M, Modern Character in Thedas, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:16:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exarkhos/pseuds/exarkhos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After picking a strange book off the shelf in a used bookstore, Robin finds himself whisked away to the world of Thedas and dropped face-first into Kirkwall's Darktown. This would be an exciting adventure, if there didn't seem to be no way to get him home. </p><p>While he looks for a solution to his little trans-dimensional problem, he finds himself caught up in the exciting, often dangerous, life of a man named Hawke. Try as he might, he can't seem to escape this stranger's orbit, and Robin finds himself dragged deeper and deeper into a centuries-old conflict: the rights of those called Mages.</p><p> It looks like this is going to be one hell of a ride, and Robin's not too sure he'll manage to stay in the saddle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darktown

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have much to say yet! 
> 
> This was written partly for the [Modern Character In Thedas challenge](http://ecarius.tumblr.com/post/148749156115/some-of-my-new-friends-in-the-modern-characters-in), which I used as a spring board to get me started. You'll see some of the prompts surface as I go along, though it doesn't follow them exactly. 
> 
> Things are going to be a little rocky at first, but I swear I have _plans._ It just might take a while for them to surface.

Well, he wasn’t dead. That was a good start. 

Robin groaned. _Damn allergies_. He was prepared to apologize to the store owner for passing out in his bookshop, because _fuck_ dust, but he stopped the moment he opened his eyes and found himself staring at not the over-stuffed shelves of _Knight and Dragon Used Books_ , but at a mildew covered, stone wall. Wherever he was didn’t smell like musty books anymore, either, but stank of garbage.

Robin hastily covered his nose. 

“What the hell,” he stated bluntly, voice muffled by his own palm. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked around. 

He was in what seemed like an abandoned mine shaft. To his left, a narrow tunnel stretched towards some form of light - too dull to be sunlight, it was probably from a lamp, or fire, by the orange, flickering quality of it. To his right, was the dead end of the tunnel and, much to Robin’s horror, a pile of refuse. He looked away, and up. The shaft was deep, and the entrance to it some five, maybe seven meters up had been blocked off with slats of wood. Actual sunlight filtered down from between them. 

“I’m underground?” he asked aloud. There was no one around to answer him, not even a rat scuttling through the pile of refuse. He had absolutely no idea where he could be. He had no memory of how he’d gotten there. 

All he could remember was pulling a book off a shelf and then gut-wrenching, horrible virtigo before everything went black.

Robin groaned again.

In lieu of lying on the ground by a literal pile of trash, he decided to try his luck at the other end of the tunnel. Maybe there’d be something there, or someone, to give him some sort of clue. He pushed himself up to his feet and wobbled for a few moments before he managed to get his legs to work again. 

He was doing his best to not think too hard about his situation. The words _kidnapping_ and _rohypnol_ danced in the back of his brain, but he ignored them. It wasn’t like the old guy who ran the used book store was running a kidnapping ring out of the back room, or that a kidnapping ring would dump some of their so-called cargo down a, what, mine shaft? Robin had no idea where they’d found a place like this in the middle of the fucking Prairies. Unless he was very, very far away from home. 

Robin didn’t want to think about it, so instead he focused all his attention on the tunnel, and getting to the end of it. The light drew nearer as he stumbled along on legs that were not _quite_ sturdy enough to hold him up. 

_What the hell had happened?_

Coming out the end of the tunnel did nothing to help his confusion. He was in another mine shaft, this one had walls lined with slats of wood to keep dirt and loose stones from falling into the path. There was a lamp burning in the wall directly opposite him, and he stared at it for longer than he should have. It was the sort of lamp he associated with damp catacombs, gothic castles...He didn’t have words to describe it beyond _oil lamp_ and _wrought iron._

He was about to step out into the corridor, to have a closer look at the lamp, when he heard voices and footsteps coming from down the left. Robin had enough of his wits about him to step back, into the shadows, where whoever was coming couldn’t see him. He was glad he was wearing black, glad for his dark hair that could hide most of his face - he needed a haircut, his brain told him, but he ignored it and listened in to the people. At first, he couldn’t understand them. They spoke some foreign language that was strange to his ears. Almost Germanic, but lighter. Not so many harsh sounds. 

It took him longer to realize they were, in fact, speaking English. 

Robin shook his head. He was worried for a moment that he might have hit it when he’d fallen, because that was _weird._ He’d sworn those words hadn’t been familiar a moment before, but now he could clearly make out their conversation.

They were talking about guards, and how if they wouldn’t do their job in Darktown, then why should the templars? 

Robin could understand them, but it didn’t mean he could make any sense out of what they were saying. Templars? He searched his brain for some bit of information that could help, but all that was offered up, rather unhelpfully, were the Knights Templar, and something vague about Prussia. Bits of knowledge from history classes that he had a, rather sinking, feeling would be of absolutely no help. He pressed himself back up against the wall, as flush as he could get, when the pair passed his hiding place. One of them glanced his way, but their huge, wide-set eyes seemed to look right past him. 

Robin forced a hand over his mouth again to stifle his sharp intake of breath. He didn’t have a chance to get a better look at the man, but he could do very little to deny what he’d just seen. The wide eyes, the flat bridge of the man’s nose, and long, pointed ears that stuck out from the side of his head. He was an _elf_.

Robin sank down to a crouch, still with his hand pressed over his mouth. He felt ill, nauseous from both the realization that something was very, _very_ wrong, and how absolutely awful wherever he was smelled. Refuse, piss, mildew, human (and elf?) sweat, and the distant, more familiar smell of livestock all mingled with his frazzled nerves to make his lunch threaten to resurface.

He managed to swallow it down. 

He got back up and, after checking more than once to see if both ways were clear, turned right down the passage, in the direction the elf and his companion had travelled. While years of adults telling him that if he was ever, ever lost he should stay put screamed at him to stop moving, he knew that standing in that tunnel with nothing but a pile of garbage at his back was of no help. He had to get his bearings, find out where he was, or else he had a feeling he might go crazy.

&&&

It took Robin longer than expected to get out of these damn tunnels and to some semblance of, well, civilization. As it turned out, more tunnels branched off the one he’d been following and they all looked _exactly_ the same. To the point that he was, pretty sure, that he passed by the little side-tunnel he’d original come out of at least twice. He finally picked the right path, however, and stepped out into a wider, better lit section of this underground maze.

There were people here. Lots of them. Most of them paid him no mind, and the ones that did, just stared for a moment before their eyes moved on to other things. No one seemed to care that his jeans, coat, and running shoes didn’t blend in at all. Maybe it was because they were dark colours and already pretty dirty, just like everyone else down here. 

Robin stopped at the top of a little staircase with his back pressed against the wall and just watched. There were more elves here, mixed in with the humans and even a few, what he was pretty sure were, dwarves. 

He couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking. 

This had to be some sort of nightmare, he figured, or maybe a trick of his brain brought about by, _whatever_ , a sudden aneurysm that caused a coma, a hallucination before he died that seemed to stretch on endlessly. There was no way someone could pull off a prank this elaborate, make a set that looked, smelled, and sounded this real just to fuck with his head. Robin went through all the possibilities, but none of them seemed really, truly likely. 

In fact, he found himself thinking, that the most likely conclusion was that he was really here. He had, through some miracle, ended up in...This place. 

_Darktown_ , one of the people he’d passed by had said. 

Darktown was a dump. Or more accurately, Robin thought, a slum. Everyone who wandered by looked thin from malnutrition, and the kind of dirty that would take at least two good, long showers to wash away. As Robin stood there and thought, some men walked by, armed to the teeth with knives and swords, and they eyed him in a way that made him shrink back, again, against the wall. All of them looked dangerous, the kind of people he’d never have seen in the sleepy little town he grew up in. 

He said a prayer that they’d pass him by without starting trouble, but of course, _of course_ , he wasn’t that lucky. 

One guy, large and bald with a fucking x-shaped scar on his cheekbone, stopped in front of him and the others fell into place. He must have been their leader. He was at least a full head taller than Robin, and Robin wasn’t exactly a short guy. 

“You lost?” the man asked. He sounded gruff, but he didn’t sound like he wanted to kill Robin for looking at him funny.

Robin swallowed and nodded his head. He couldn’t catch his breath enough to find words quite yet, though the thug didn’t seem to really need a more articulate answer. 

“You look like you wandered in here by accident. You tryin’ to find that warden clinic? We get a lot of lost folk lookin’ for it.” 

“I...Yes?” Robin squeaked back at him. 

“Right, it’s down these stairs and then you take your first left. First right-hand tunnel you come to after that, you take it, then it’s a straight shot from there. You’ll want to look for the lit lantern, if the healer’s in it’ll be out. If not, well, best come back another time.” The man gestured back down the stairs he and his cronies had just come up. 

Robin nodded his head, but he didn’t dare move. He got a weird look from the tall, bald fellow.

“You’re not some templar spy, are ya?” he demanded. His voice was suddenly hostile. “Your lot have been sneaking around these parts, and the Coterie aren’t going to just take that lying down-”

“No! No,” Robin insisted, his hands flying up to, protect himself? He wasn’t sure. “I’m not a- A templar? I’m a-”

He didn’t know what he was. Very lost. Probably not of this world. 

“I’m just looking for the healer.”

The man gave him one last once-over, but he nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer,. “Right, well, follow those directions and you’ll find him. Probably, unless that Hawke fellow’s got him running errands again.”

There were a few chuckles that spread through the group, and someone said, “Don’t think Hawke’s been in the city for a while,” before they all wandered off. Just like that, Robin was left alone again.

He took a moment to catch his breath, then took off down the stairs at a jog. 

He took the first left, his feet carried him straight until he found a tunnel that branched off to the right and he turned onto it. The bustle of people soon disappeared as he continued on, and on, and he began to wonder if the man had been leading him on with these directions, until the tunnel took a curve to the left and came to a dead end. Rubble blocked his path, and Robin was about to yell in frustration, when he noticed a staircase cut into the wall, partially obscured by the pile of rocks and broken boards. He climbed it and came out onto a wide landing. To his left was a open mine shaft, sunlight streaming down from the world above. He was stopped from falling off by a low, wooden railing that had been tacked up between pillars of stone. Robin leaned over and looked down, and down, as the shaft disappeared into the earth below. 

To his right, the wall had been painted with a mural. Eerie, featureless figures with chains around their ankles, all with their faces upturned and twisted by expressions of agony. Robin stared at it for a moment, so long that it took him a while to actually look straight ahead. 

There was a lantern on the wall, next to a rather shabby looking door. 

Robin didn’t approach it at first, as he wondered what on earth he was even doing there. It wasn’t like he was hurt, he didn’t need _healing_. He needed someone to tell him where the hell he was, and how the hell to find his way back home. 

In his panic, he’d thought that maybe this healer could help, but now he had his doubts. He considered turning around and going back to where there were more people, people who could maybe help him.

Then the clinic door opened and he was suddenly face-to-face with the person in the doorway. A tired, blond man who looked just as gaunt as everyone else he’d seen down here. Except there was something about this guy, maybe it was the look in his eye, or the fact that he had what looked like two entire geese-worth of feathers decorating the pauldrons of his shabby coat, that made Robin stop dead. 

They stared at each other, both startled, until the blond man gave Robin a tired smile. 

“Can I help you with anything, serah?” he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things of note:
> 
> 1\. Dragon Age might exist in the Earth Robin comes from, but the poor guy's never played a video game in his life (and if he has it was briefly and not a BioWare game), so he will have no knowledge of the events unfolding around him, anyway. You can decide whatever you like there, if the games exist or not, I don't care. 
> 
> 2\. I have end-game pairings in mind, but I'm not tagging them because I might change my mind as I work. My outline for this is loose at best, non-existent at worse. If you really want to know what I'm planning at this point, as of the posting of the first chapter my end-game pairings will be: Fenris/Robin (oc), Hawke/Varric, and Merrill/Isabela
> 
> 3\. Sebastian will not be appearing in this, because I have never owned the DLC with him in it. In fact, this fic won't take any of the DLC into account, following only the vanilla game (yes, this includes DLC that becomes important in DAI). 
> 
> 4\. And if you're wondering, our version of Garrett Hawke for this fanfic is a Mage, meaning Carver will be making an appearance. The Hero of Ferelden is Llewen Surana and he'd very much like to be left alone, though may make an appearance, and I do plan to go forward into DA:I with a female Lavellan as the inquisitor, but as of August 15th 2016, I have not thought _that_ far ahead. 
> 
> Anyway, thank-you for reading! I hope to see you all at the next chapter (which will hopefully be longer as the story progresses).


	2. Welcome to Kirkwall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin gets a chance to explain his situation, and Anders decides there's some people he needs to meet.

Before he really knew what was going on, Robin was ushered into the clinic and sat down atop an overturned apple crate that seemed to be all this place had to offer in terms of chairs. Anders told him to wait, so he did. He reflexively folded his hands in his lap as he looked around, eyes wide, to take in the room he’d just been dragged into. 

The Clinic was nothing more than an old room, probably some sort of overseer’s office from back when Darktown was a mine, or something like that. Robin didn’t know how mines worked. He thought back to the mural just outside the clinic door, and wondered if some of the people who lived here had - or still were? - slaves. 

Robin shook his head and trailed his eyes around the room once more. There were three canvas cots, one of which was occupied by a man with his back to the room. This man would moan on occasion, and Robin began to wonder if he was okay as he sat there in silence. He was still staring when a warm, clay mug was pressed against his temple. 

Robin started and looked up at the feather-covered guy, who must be the healer, because there was no one else there to fill that role. Feather-guy smiled a bit sheepishly at him. 

“Sorry,” he said. “You look a little frayed around the edges, a warm drink usually helps calm me down when I feel like that. You don’t have to drink it, if you don’t want to-”

Robin took the mug from feather-guy’s hands and nodded. He hadn’t quite managed to get his voice working again, so he occupied himself by sniffing at whatever was in the mug. Steam rose up and left damp spots on his cheeks when he pulled it close to his face to take a sip. The taste reminded him of some fruity, black teas. Earl Grey, he thought, but at the same time distinctively _not_ Earl Grey. 

Robin pulled the mug away from his face and glanced at the guy on the cot again. “Is he alright?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, he’s going to be just fine. Ate some bad fish stew,” feather-guy said dismissively. “He just needs to sleep it off.” 

Robin nodded. He could see feather-guy staring at him, expectantly, like he was waiting for Robin to start. To tell him what he needed. Robin had no idea what that was, though. One didn’t exactly get much practice telling people that they were from a different world, that they needed help getting home. 

Robin cleared his throat. “I- Uh… Some guys said I could get help here.”

Feather-guy smiled. “I do my best to heal, and help, everyone,” he said. 

Robin nodded again. He fidgeted with the mug of tea. 

He knew this must seem strange. His clothes would seem off, so off, from what most people wore in this place. He was well-fed. He wasn’t even a small guy, he had enough muscle that back home, to the wrong person, Robin could look like a bit of a threat - his permanent scowl didn’t help - but it was all just muscle from working for six years at a stable. 

He didn’t look sick. 

He didn’t need a healer. 

“ _Christ,_ ” Robin muttered and set the mug aside on the apple crate so that he could rub his palms into his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bother you here. I can figure something out on my own-”

“Why don’t you tell me what the problem is, first,” feather-guy cut him off. “Or, if you want, we can start with introductions, since I haven’t seen you around before. My name is Anders.”

 _Anders._ That was a pretty normal name. He’d expected something more, Fantasy. With more apostrophes stuck in it. “Robin,” he grumbled back. 

“Good, there, now, what seems to be ailing you, Robin?” Anders asked him. He smiled, but he just looked tired. Robin didn’t want to bother this guy with his problems. His very improbably problems. 

But, he told himself, he needed _someone_ to help him. 

Robin took a deep breath. “I’m not actually sick, at least I don’t think I am...See my problem is a bit more, uh…”

Anders raised an eyebrow and Robin self-consciously picked up his mug of tea again. So that he had something in his hands to fidget with while he spoke. 

“I woke up down here, and I’m not exactly sure how I got here.”

“Were you captured?” Anders asked immediately. “We get slavers down here sometimes, though I thought the Coterie was-”

“No! At least, I don’t think so… See, I was in a bookstore and I picked a book off the shelf,” he paused to frown into his tea, “And next thing I knew, I’d woken up here, next to a pile of trash. And there were elves.”

Anders frowned. “Elves? Wait, what bookstore? One here, in Kirkwall, or-?”

 _Kirkwall._ That was a new name, a new place. He figured that Darktown must be in Kirkwall, or at least near by. Maybe under it? Robin shrugged. “No, I was in- Well, see, I think I might be from a different world. Than this one.” 

Anders stared at him, then he started to laugh. It was the sort of uncertain laugh that meant he had no idea what else there was to do. Robin didn’t blame him. 

He didn’t know what to do, either.

“Did Hawke put you up to this?” Anders asked. “Or maybe it was Isabela. Doesn’t matter, please, you have better things to do than go along with either of their schemes-”

“I’m not- I have no idea who those people are,” Robin said. With enough force to seem, angry, frustrated in the least. He had known he’d have to defend himself, but he’d expected at least a bit more, something. Not this. Anders must have shitty friends if this seemed like a _prank_ one of them would play. “I was born on Earth, in a town called Kipling. My dad’s a dentist and my mom’s a veterinarian. I was on _Earth_ trying to buy a goddamn book, and suddenly I was _here_ and I have no idea how that happened, but there are elves and slaves and-” Robin stopped. He gestured around the clinic, Anders’ eyes followed his hand, before he returned it to his mug and gripped it hard. “And I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do.”

While Robin spoke, Anders had deflated a little. He’d certainly stopped laughing. “Are you a mage?” was the first thing out of his mouth.

Mage. Someone who used magic. Robin shook his head. “We don’t have magic on Earth. So, no, I’m not a mage. I teach kids how to ride horses.” 

“You don’t have magic?” Anders sounded shocked at this realization. He dragged a hand over his chin, there were two moles on the back of it and for a moment Robin got caught up staring at them, until he managed to rip his eyes away and look back at Anders’ face. “If there’s no magic, how did you end up _here?_ ” 

“I don’t know,” Robin replied. “I just picked up a book off the shelf, got really dizzy, and I must have blacked out, because I woke up face-down on the ground. I _thought_ I’d just fallen between the stacks, but no, apparently I ended up in Darktown.”

“What book?” 

“Sorry?”

“The one you picked up. What was it called?”

Robin hadn’t even thought of that. He wracked his brain for the title, the author’s name. “I think it was called...Something with snakes. _The Viper’s Nest?_ ” Robin shrugged. “The author had a weird name, it stuck out to me, but I can’t remember what it was.” 

Anders frowned. “And you’re sure you’re from another world?”

“Yes! Look, I can-” he stopped halfway through his sentence and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He still had his wallet and his phone, and no idea why he hadn’t thought of them sooner. He was pretty sure they didn’t have smartphones in this Darktown place. He pulled both out and handed them to Anders, who took the two objects gingerly in his hands. He ignored the phone, which must have been completely foreign to him, given that it looked like Robin had ended up in a world that was currently going through whatever their equivalent of the Enlightenment was called, and instead Anders flipped open his wallet. He ran his thumb over the plastic cards, and squinted down at what Robin guessed was his driver’s license. 

“Does that prove it?” Robin asked. 

“This does seem like a lot to go to the trouble of making for a prank,” Anders said. He handed the things back to Robin. “Was the author of that book named Tethras, by chance?” 

Robin thought about it for a moment, as he took his belongings back from Anders. “It might have been. Do you know the book?”

Anders sighed. “I think there’s some people you need to meet…”

&&&

Robin had a feeling he’d made a bad first impression, because Anders didn’t say anything to him as they left the clinic and made their way through the passages of Darktown. They made it back to the bigger tunnels, where the people were, and their progress was slowed as some stopped Anders to say hello, or ask him questions. Robin began to realize that Anders might be the _only_ healer in Darktown, by the sound of things, or at least the only one any of these people could _afford._

Someone asked about Hawke. 

Robin was beginning to wonder who this guy was, because not only had Anders brought him up, but that thug who’d given him directions to the clinic had, as well. 

At least with Anders there, no one really paid him any mind. Robin just stood slightly behind his shoulder, tall and awkward as ever. Doing his very best to not stick out like a sore thumb.

They finally made it to some sort of exit. A lift that had an ancient, rusted crank that squealed when Anders pulled the lever to set it in motion. Robin covered his ears until the noise stopped and he saw Anders laugh a little.

“You get used to it,” he said.

Robin just nodded. Under no circumstance did he want to _get used_ to riding this lift. He didn’t want to get used to _anything_ here. He wanted to get home, immediately, to his own world. Give his mom a hug. Maybe take one of the horses out for a long workout. Robin pawed at his eyes again. Now that he wasn’t moving, he felt exhausted. Whatever sleep he’d gotten when he’d been lying face-down in the that tunnel hadn’t been restful in the slightest, and he had no idea how long he’d been up at this point. 

He needed a nap. Or coffee. The tea Anders had given him had done nothing to wake him up. If anything, it had just made him sleepier. 

The lift shuddered to a stop after a couple minutes of rising up through the gloom. Anders got off and Robin followed him into another tunnel. The smell up here wasn’t as bad, less like rotting food and who knew what else, most of it was over-powered by the tang of salt water, kelp, the ocean. They must have been near it, maybe Kirkwall was a port city. 

At the end of this tunnel, there was sunlight and Robin squinted when they stepped out into it. He stopped for a moment just outside the tunnel to let his eyes adjust to the sudden change in lighting. When he could see again, Robin looked around. 

Kirkwall was a big city, that was his first impression of it. They were standing on a lowered platform below street level, with a staircase that led up it. There was no railing at the end of the platform, it just dropped off to the next level of the city. The entire thing seemed to be carved into and out of huge, white cliffs. All the buildings were made of this white stone, tall and imposing and just a little run-down, and red banners and tarps hung from almost every establishment, blocking out some of the sun so that everyone on the streets below didn’t boil alive in their skin.

It was _hot_. Back home, it had been the height of summer and hot enough, but this Kirkwall place was like an oven. Robin immediately felt the heat in his lungs, like it was trying to crush him, force him back down into the much cooler underground. He looked over at Anders, and his heavy coat, and how it hung off his frame like it was meant for a man who was three sizes bigger than him, or a man that had once been three sizes bigger… Robin wondered how he could stand the heat in that thing. He only had on a light hoodie and he was already sweating through it. 

He undid his jacket as he stood and looked out, down between the cliff walls to where he could see water. There was some building out there, that rose high above the others, even if it was built in the lowest level of the city. The sun, which was starting to go down, accented its sharp, _deadly_ lines with gold that Robin thought didn’t belong there. The building was dark, ominous, and just looking at it made Robin’s skin crawl. 

Anders must have seen what he was staring at, because he stepped up beside him and said, “The Gallows.”

There was something in his voice when he said those two words something that crackled beneath his skin and made Robin feel, strange. Like when you could feel the cold in your teeth. He shivered. “Sounds like a cheerful place,” he said in some attempt to ease the sudden, unexpected tension.

Anders just looked at him, hard, in a way that seemed out of character on his face. He eventually turned and motioned for Robin to follow him again. “Come on, I want to get to the Hanged Man before Hawke leaves,” he said, then added in a mutter that Robin knew wasn’t really meant for him, “I don’t feel like dropping in on him at home, not with Gamlen there.”

Robin followed without any protest. _Gallows_ and _Hanged Men_. He was beginning to think he didn’t like the sound of this Kirkwall place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is chapter two! I'm sorry, I know I'm bad at writing Anders. 
> 
> A note on where Robin is from, it's a real place. I've never actually been there, though I spent a lot of time in the area when I was growing up (almost every summer, and weekends in the spring and autumn), hence why I decided to make Robin from there... Hopefully I get to make more references to that, but if not, oh well! No harm done.
> 
> Oh and, the book The Viper's Nest, is from canon and one of Varric's earlier works. Here's its summary: _published in 9:23 Dragon, a story about an elven courtier that gets in the friction between the Kalna and Ascendant families in the Dwarven Merchants Guild, as well as the several connections the guild maintains to various assassin guilds_
> 
> Thank-you for reading this far! See you next chapter :)


	3. Hanged Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke is always willing to help those in need, but Robin isn't sure if he can trust these people. They all seem pretty dangerous to him.

“Anders!” someone boomed the moment they stepped inside the Hanged Man, which turned out to be a tavern, or public house, of some variety. Robin wasn’t up to par on his late-Medieval terminology, but it was definitely a place people went to get drunk. There were a few people passed out on the side of the street out front, obviously sloshed and too unsteady to find their way home. 

Or maybe they didn’t have a home. 

Robin had to stop in the doorway and brace himself against the wooden frame when he realized that he didn’t have anywhere to go. If he was stuck here, he’d end up on the street, and from what he’d seen of the streets in Kirkwall, that was the last place he wanted to be. 

It took him a few moments to notice that Anders was staring at him, one hand on his shoulder. “You okay?” he asked. 

Robin just nodded. He looked up and around and eventually spotted the person who’d shouted at Anders. He was a tall man, probably the same height, if not a bit taller, as Robin. They seemed to be about the same build, as well, but this man had bigger arms - one was raised in greeting, wooden mug held in a huge fist - and seemed to be, over all, covered in more muscle than Robin had. This new person looked back at Robin, a little confused, but he eventually smiled behind his rather impressive beard and gestured at them both to come over. 

There were three other people at the table. They all stared at Robin as he dragged his feet along behind Anders. 

“You’ve found a stray,” the big, bearded guy said when they were close enough to be heard over the dull roar of other conversations. 

Anders glanced at Robin. “Do you think we could talk somewhere private, Hawke?” 

Ah, so this was Hawke. Robin took a better look at him. He had a kind face, unruly brown hair, and there was a scar clear across his nose like he’d slammed it into a sharp corner at some point, leaving his nose more than a little crooked and a deep, ruddy line across the bridge of it. Blue eyes flicked to Robin for a moment and caught him staring. Robin looked away as Hawke looked back to Anders. 

“Uh-oh, Blondie, you get yourself into trouble again?” one of the others asked. He was a dwarf. Blond, roguish, and with his shirt undone far too low on his chest to show off a pelt of light, curly chest hair. He smiled at Robin. “Nice shirt, kid.”

Robin blinked. He found his voice. “Uh, thanks,” he mumbled and thought, _mother would be so proud._

“Who _is_ this?” Hawke asked, over whatever the dwarf was going to say next. 

Robin fidgeted and looked to Anders for, help, an answer. Anything other than the myriad of things he wanted to blurt out. 

“I wanted to talk to you about that. In private.” Anders put emphasis on that last bit, looking at all the others around the table. 

One of them, a woman with red hair and a stern expression, shook her head a little. “Anders, this had better not be anything illegal-”

“It’s not, Aveline,” Anders insisted before she could finish. “It’s just- This is Robin, and he needs to speak with Hawke.”

“Does he?” Hawke asked. He looked puzzled. 

“You can use my room,” the dwarf offered. “Naturally, I’ll come with you three. To supervise and make sure no one touches my things.” 

Anders blew out hard through his nose. “Varric, I really think it would be better if just Hawke-”

 _So this was Varric,_ Robin thought. He took a closer look at the dwarf. He didn’t look any odder than being a dwarf made him. In fact, out of all of the small group sitting at the table, he seemed the most normal. 

“Anders, _I_ really think-” Varric began, but Robin didn’t give him a chance to finish.

“It’s fine, I don’t-” _they were all going to find out anyway,_ “It’s his room, so he might as well come,” Robin cut in before they could start arguing at his expense. That was the last thing he wanted. 

“There, that’s settled.” Varric stood up from the table and grabbed his tankard. “Aveline, Merrill, don’t miss us too much.”

Robin had almost not noticed the third member of the little group. A small elven girl, with wide eyes and _tattoos_ all over her face. He stared at her for a moment, until Anders dragged him away from the table and he snapped his attention back to the three leading him up some back stairs. 

So the Hanged Man was an inn. That answered his question. 

He noticed a dagger strapped to Hawke’s thigh and did his best not to think too hard about its presence. Robin was glad that his default expression was a scowl, it made him seem less nervous. He didn’t want to give these new strangers any reason to hurt him, or doubt him. As nice as Anders seemed, and even the others, he wasn’t really sure if he could trust them.

The reality of his situation was beginning to slowly crash in around him, but he did his very best to ignore it and scowl at his feet as he climbed the stairs.

&&&

“Alright, what’s this all about?” Hawke asked the minute they were in Varric’s room, the door closed behind them.

Robin thought, it was the kind of room he’d 100% have imagined a dwarf to live in, before all eyes turned to him and he was caught in their stares. Two sets of brown eyes, one of blue. Robin blinked a few times to clear his head. 

He had no better idea about how to explain to these people, so he decided to go with as blunt as possible. “I’m from another world,” he said. “And I think I got here by picking up one of his books.” 

He pointed at Varric.

There was a stunned silence, that lasted only as long as it took both Varric and Hawke to catch up to what they’d just heard, and then everyone started talking at once. 

It took Robin an hour of explaining, showing his wallet and phone to them, to get them to finally, _finally_ believe him.

“Well, shit,” Varric said. He’d sat down at some point.

Robin was amazed he hadn’t fallen over yet. He was still standing, wallet in his hand gripped so hard his knuckles were turning white, and his brow furrowed. His legs were starting to shake. 

“So, this brings up some interesting questions,” Hawke said at length. “Varric, are you sure you’re not secretly a mage-”

“Hawke,” Varric said, which shut up the other pretty fast. 

“-Alright, fine. So neither you, nor Robin here, are mages. Anders, what do you think? Any theories?”

Anders shrugged. He was seated at the low, stone table, as well. “No...Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Right, you keep working on that.” Hawke stroked his beard. “Robin, what are you going to do?”

“Pardon?” Robin nearly choked on the word. 

Hawke gave him a sympathetic smile, but he still levelled him with a stare. His eyes were so _blue_ it was beginning to unnerve Robin. He felt pinned, under them, and this large, soft man suddenly seemed dangerous. 

Robin’s mind wandered to snakes and he thought, _The viper’s nest._

“Now that you’re here, what are you going to do?” Hawke asked again, rephrasing the question so Robin could figure out an answer. 

He didn’t have one, though. “I don’t know,” he grumbled. “Try to find a way home, I guess.”

“You have somewhere to stay yet, kid?” Varric asked. Robin looked at him and the dwarf smiled a bit. “Looks like it’s my fault you ended up here, so I can help you out until we, well, until Hawke figures out something to do with you.”

Robin nodded. He didn’t want to accept Varric’s help, he didn’t really want to accept any of their help, but he had a feeling he had no other choice. “I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth,” he said glibly. “Er, ah, no. I don’t have anywhere to stay. Or money. Or clothes, really…” He picked at the front of his t-shirt.

“If he stays here, Aveline will ask questions,” Hawke pointed out. “Anders, can you take him back to the clinic?”

Back to Darktown? Robin grimaced at the idea. At least up here it didn’t smell _quite_ as bad, though he had a feeling that would change when it was midday and sweltering under the sun and everything smelled of sweat and baking refuse. Maybe Darktown wasn’t such a bad idea. 

“I already drew too much attention to myself, and him, when we paraded up here,” Anders said. “I’d rather not give the templars more reason to raid hideouts down there.” 

Ah, so that was out. Robin rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling a little ashamed, even if it wasn’t really his fault. 

Hawke sighed. “Well, he can’t come back with me. Gamlen’s already about to burst with how many people he’s got under his roof, and the estate in High Town isn’t ours _yet_.” He sounded bitter, and exhausted. 

“Why don’t we dump him on Broody?” Varric asked. 

There was silence for a moment. 

Robin didn’t know who Broody was, but he didn’t like the sound of him, if that nickname was anything to go by. 

Anders grunted, in what seemed to be a show of displeasure. “If you’re taking him there, I won’t be joining you,” he said.

“You’re just mad that he beat you at cards the other night,” Hawke teased. “Fenris does have room, and no one bothers to look at that place _too_ hard.” 

“That’s because I started a rumour that it’s haunted,” Varric said. He sounded smug, like he was very pleased with himself for that one. “Seems to do the trick.” 

Robin shook his head a little. “I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?”

“Ah, right,” Hawke gave an apologetic smile, “I believe we’ve settled on where you can hide out until you, or I, or someone, perhaps Anders, decide where to start figuring this all out.”

“With a guy named Broody?” Robin asked. 

Anders snorted loudly, which got another pointed look from Hawke, before he said, “Well, no, that’s just what Varric calls him. His name is Fenris.”

“Do you really want to leave him with that wild-” Anders sneered, but was cut off.

“He’s saved my life more times than you have, Anders,” Hawke hissed and there was _danger_ in his voice, and his eyes, again. “I know you have problems with the guy, but I trust him- Robin can trust him, too.” 

“If it’s trouble-” Robin began.

“It’s not,” Hawke snapped. He exhaled sharply and his shoulders visibly relaxed. “Anders just doesn’t get along with people who don’t share his opinion of mages-”

“You’re a mage, too, Hawke,” Anders snapped right back. “You should be on my side, here, not his.” There was that crackle, again, when he spoke. This time Robin was sure that he saw something like bright, blue veins flash beneath his skin, around his eyes. 

He blinked, and they were gone, as if he’d imagined it. 

“I am not picking sides,” Hawke said. “I have said it once, and I will say it a million times until you, _both of you_ , get it through your skulls. I don’t care. Right now, I want to get to Hightown and get this settled. Then we can argue about Mages and Templars, when we’re not confusing the pants off our new friend.”

Hawke was right, Robin was confused. And nervous. And beginning to feel a little nauseous again. 

He swallowed hard and did his best to keep this all off his face.

Before Anders could come up with a retort, Hawke turned to Varric. “Do you have an extra tunic he could borrow, so that we can sneak him up to Hightown without getting too many stares?” 

Varric eyed Robin, who stood awkwardly, hands folded in front of him. “I don’t think anything of mine will fit him,” Varric said, finally. “He looks like he’s more your size, big guy.” 

Hawke sighed. “Fine. Wait here, and don’t let Anders _talk._ ” 

With that, Hawke disappeared back out the door and left Robin alone with Varric and a rather angry looking Anders. 

Robin didn’t know what to do with himself, so he circled over to the table and sat down. He just slumped in his chair and stared straight ahead, before he remembered his manners and turned to Anders. “Thank-you, for the help. Sorry, it seems like I got him mad at you.”

Anders let some of the tension leave him. He looked exhausted again, but at least the anger was gone. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “Though you will eventually have to-” 

“Blondie, drop it,” Varric grunted. Anders frowned at him, but he was ignored, as Varric continued. “You hungry, kid? You look like you might pass out at any moment.”

“I feel like it,” Robin mumbled. He was hungry, and thirsty, and so, very tired, but he didn’t know if he had the right to ask for anything to eat, or drink. He was pretty sure he didn’t have the right to ask for a bed to sleep in. “I don’t want to impose on you, anymore than I have…”

Varric waved a hand. “Money’s not an issue, and don’t worry about Hawke. He loves to help people out, just ask anyone.”

“It’s true,” Anders muttered. 

Robin nodded slowly and looked back at the door, which Hawke had left open when he departed. He could see the hall beyond, and hear sounds from the tavern drifting up to them. “I wouldn’t mind some food, if you’re offering,” he said at length. “It might help settle my stomach.” 

“Alright, I’ll send an order up from the kitchen,” Varric said and pushed himself up to his feet. “And placate any questions Aveline and Daisy may have. Knowing Hawke, he rushed out of here without a word to them.”

“You’re going to tell them…?” Robin trailed off. 

Varric shook his head. “I’ll tell them Anders did, in fact, bring in another stray and that he needs to lay low for a while. They’ll understand.”

Robin frowned. “Do you have a habit of picking up strays, or..?”

“All of Hawke’s friends are strays,” Varric said. He gave Robin a winning smile, and then he, too, left. 

Robin stared after him, and he wondered if he meant that Robin was one of Hawke’s friends now, too. He wondered what it meant to be one of Hawke’s friends. These people were probably going to expect some kind of payment eventually, be it through coin, or work, and Robin wasn’t exactly sure he’d be able to manage whatever they wanted. 

He thought about the dagger at Hawke’s thigh, and the viper look in his eyes, the crackle in Ander’s voice when he got angry. Robin shuddered. 

_Danger_ might need to be something he got used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are probably going to slow down a bit after this, as I start to get to more complex stuff that I need to work out. But hey, that's something to look forward to, at least? :)
> 
> Thank-you for reading this far, and I hope to see you all next chapter!


	4. Skeletons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin is introduced to the man that's supposed to be his new "roommate." He's also introduced to the handful of corpses said roommate has lying around his home...

Hawke came back with a shirt and a pair of trousers. Varric suggested that they give Robin privacy to undress, but he didn’t want to inconvenience anyone any more than he already had, so he hastily started to haul off his own shirt before Varric could finish his sentence. 

Someone laughed. He thought it might have been Hawke, but he ignored it. 

With his t-shirt off, Robin was suddenly self-conscious. He wasn’t anything spectacular next to these guys, not ripped like Hawke, or even Varric, who had forearms that looked like someone had stuffed a ham into them. 

He’d had a hard time keeping his eyes off them while he ate. 

Robin was muscular, but a little doughy around the middle thanks to genetics, or eating too much, or some combination. He had a scar on his abdomen, from when they’d taken out his appendix in sixth grade, and another one on his left pect from when he’d unwisely decided to fry bacon without a shirt on. Otherwise, he was just kind of...Soft, covered in patchy chest hair. Not much to look at.

He pulled on the shirt before he could think of it too much, and then went for the trousers. At least, he thought, his legs were nice. Nice legs, okay shoulders and arms, that’s what you got when you worked with horses and hauled hay and other farm equipment six hours a day. He covered them up with the trousers. 

The shirt was a little too large, in the shoulder, but the sleeves were at least the right length. The trousers fit perfectly. The fabric was a little scratchy, but nothing that Robin could really complain about. Especially not when he was being given them out of the goodness of...Hawke’s heart. 

They were also there, _solid and real_. 

Robin’s breath caught in his throat as reality suddenly crashed down around him. He realized some part of him had been clinging to the idea that this was, a dream, that he could wake up from. But now he had on these new, strange clothes, and he’d eaten food that had tasted real and filled him up. 

_This was real._

“There, you look like a regular Lowtown scoundrel,” Varric announced, and it succeeded in snapping Robin out of spiralling right into a panic attack. 

He hurriedly bundled up his clothes, with his wallet and phone tucked safely inside his hoodie, at the centre of the bundle. He clutched at it like a lifeline for a moment until he grounded himself again and felt like he could breathe. 

“I’m not sure if that’s something to be proud about,” he said in a mumble.

“It’s not,” Hawke said and slapped him on the back. “You can keep those. They’re Carver’s, he won’t be using them anymore.”

“You stole your brother’s clothing?” Varric asked. He sounded amused, or something close enough to that, so Robin at least felt like he wasn’t doing something wrong in wearing them.

Hawke put on a stony expression. “He’s dead to me, the traitor,” he said in a deadpan, “That means his belongings are forfeit.”

“Your mother will strangle you if she hears you talking like that,” Varric laughed.

“Good thing she’s not here, then,” Hawke replied brightly. He patted Robin again, his hand lingering this time to give him a reassuring squeeze. 

Robin looked at him, and Hawke smiled. 

“Ready to go meet your new roommate?” he asked. 

“Why do I have a feeling this guy is going to be less than happy to see me,” Robin grumbled. 

Hawke laughed. “Nonsense, Fenris is a wonderful guy. He’ll be thrilled to have the company.”

“Varric called him Broody,” Robin pointed out. He shrugged Hawke’s hand off his shoulder and managed to cock an eyebrow and give Hawke a rather dubious look. 

“Lies and slander, he’s charming,” Hawke insisted.

Varric was laughing, and Anders looked like he was trying very hard to not do the same. 

Robin shook his head. “Right, well, let’s get this over with.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Varric said. He’d stood up and was headed for the door. “I’ll come with you, I don’t want to miss Broody’s face when we tell him we’ve found him a roommate.”

“Varric, you aren’t helping,” Hawke whined, but he was already herding Robin towards the door. 

Robin looked back at Anders as they left, who gave him a wave, but made no motion to follow. Robin didn’t blame him, he didn’t really want to go, either, but he also didn’t have any other choice.

&&&

“Hawke,” the voice was deep, and gravely, and Robin wasn’t the kind of person who usually swooned, but this voice made him consider it. “What are you doing here?”

Hawke bustled them all through the back door of some estate house (significantly more run-down than all the others in the area, Robin understood why Varric had started a rumour that it was haunted) into a kitchen that looked like it hadn’t been dusted in half a decade. Robin just kind of stared around as he let Hawke pull him inside and deposit him just to the right of the door. Varric followed, grinning, and the door was shut and Robin was inside. 

He turned his attention to the center of the kitchen, where a shorter man - no, an elf, Robin corrected when he saw the ears - stood with his arms folded over his chest and an unhappy look on his face. 

He had dark skin, and white hair, and even in the dim light Robin could tell his eyes were _green_ like the forest, or some other, cheesy metaphor. He also had tattoos, a lot of them, lines of white that swirled across his skin, up his throat and ended at his chin. 

The elf’s top lip was split, and one cheekbone bruised, and he was holding himself like someone who’d done some damage to a leg at some point. All the injuries looked like they were healing, at least. Robin wondered where he’d gotten them. 

“Broody, it’s wonderful to see you!” Varric said cheerfully to break the tension that had formed between all of them. “How are the wounds healing?” 

Fenris looked to Varric. “They’re fine. Any word about your brother?”

Varric grimaced back at him, and Fenris just nodded. Like he got it. 

Robin was beginning to feel a little dizzy with all this personal information about these people he was suddenly being told, even if they weren’t being explicit about it. He did, however, make note that Varric and Hawke both had brothers, that they didn’t seem to get along with. Robin was glad he was an only child. 

“Who is this?” Fenris asked.

Hawke cleared his throat. “This is Robin, Fenris.” 

Green eyes turned to Robin and they made the briefest of eye contact before they both looked away. Robin nodded at him in greeting, and he wondered how much Hawke planned to tell him. 

“He’s got himself into some trouble and he needs a place to stay for a few nights,” Hawke went on. 

_That_ got Fenris’ attention. “No, Hawke,” he said without even thinking. 

Robin slumped a little bit. He’d sort of expected this. 

Hawke didn’t seem put out by the denial, though. In fact, he outright ignored it. “Now before you say no, just hear me out. It will just be for a few days, at the longest until Leandra deems the estate fit to live in and then he can come stay with us.”

“Why here?” Fenris asked.

“Because we don’t want Aveline sniffing around,” Varric chipped in for Hawke, “And do you really want to make this poor kid have to live with Gamlen?” 

Fenris looked at Robin again. He didn’t say anything, but Robin could tell that he had questions. 

“He’s not a mage, Fenris,” Hawke said after a moment of silence.

Robin was pretty sure that Fenris flushed at that. He seemed embarrassed, or maybe angry, Robin couldn’t really tell. Fenris was hard to read, just like the rest of them. 

“So, Anders didn’t put you up to this?” Fenris asked.

Hawke hesitated. “Well, sort of. Anders found him in Darktown. But he’s not a mage, and we’re not helping him because-”

“Why don’t we just explain?” Robin interrupted. “He’s going to have to find out eventually, if I’m going to be living here.” 

“Find out what?” Fenris asked. 

“That Robin is my long-lost brother-” 

“Hawke,” Robin hissed, despite himself. He was tired, so very tired, and he just wanted this to be over with. Hawke looked at him, as if he’d been betrayed, and Robin was a little afraid he was going to see that viper-look in Hawke’s eyes again, but he just...Sighed and smiled and waved a hand.

“Go on, then, though I don’t think it will help any,” Hawke said. “You could have been a distant relative from Orlais, who was escaping, oh, an engagement with a terrible Orlesian noblewoman who had your family by the-”

“Alright, Hawke,” Varric said and patted him on the arm. “That’s enough.” 

Hawke pouted, but Robin didn’t have the time to pay attention to him. Fenris had him pinned under his gaze. “I’m not dangerous,” he said. “But if you don’t think that...If you want to think I am once I’m done explaining, you can turn me away and I’ll leave.” 

“Kid-” Varric started. 

Robin turned to him. “No, I mean it. I don’t want to make people have to stick out their neck for me. This is my problem, in the end.” 

Varric looked like he wanted to protest more, but he relented when Robin continued to scowl at him, and waved him onward. Robin turned back to Fenris, took a deep breath, and for the third time that day, he explained where he’d come from.

&&&

By the time Robin was done, Fenris had settled with his butt against the kitchen table. He had Robin’s wallet in his hand and stared at it, like he thought it might come alive and bite him, or something. He looked more than a little dazed.

“So, that’s it,” Robin said. He waited for someone to say something, or do something. 

Fenris slowly looked up. He avoided looking at Robin, his head turning to Hawke. “Is he a demon?” he asked. 

Robin bristled a bit. “I am not a-”

“We don’t think so,” Hawke cut him off. “He doesn’t seem to know anything about the Fade, or our world.” 

“He could be pretending,” Fenris pointed out. 

Robin glowered at them both. “Do I look like a demon to you? I don’t have horns, or a tail.” 

Varric started to laugh, and eventually, even though it seemed like he was still hesitant, Fenris shook his head. 

“Fine,” he grumbled. “He can stay, but if he shows any signs of becoming an abomination-”

“I know, I know,” Hawke said with a little, uncomfortable laugh. “You have my permission to deal with him, if that happens.”

Hawke and Fenris exchanged a look that made Robin shiver. He didn’t like the sound of _abomination_ and he definitely didn’t like the sound of _deal with him_. He looked around at everyone in the room and eventually caught Varric’s eye. The dwarf patted him on the arm, like he was trying to reassure him, but he didn’t say anything as Fenris and Hawke stared each other down. 

Hawke broke the exchange of looks, finally, and grinned at Robin. “Well, that’s settled, I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. I need to get home before mother has a fit, and I’m sure Varric wants to get back to his drinking.”

“That I would,” Varric said cheerfully. 

Fenris looked like he wanted to protest again, and take back his agreement to this arrangement, but he just nodded. Curt and sharp, not bothering to even look at Robin. 

In a whirlwind of exchanged goodbyes, pats on the shoulder, and a sympathetic look from Varric, Robin found himself alone with Fenris in the kitchen as the door slammed shut after Hawke. He stared at it, his bundle of clothes clutched in his arms, and his heart hammering in his chest. It took him a very, very long time to finally get his nerves back together and turn to look at Fenris. 

He still had Robin’s wallet, and had dropped his eyes to look at it again. 

“Well, uh,” Robin started and stopped to clear his throat. “I-I’ve never had a roommate before?”

Fenris started, as if he’d already forgotten Robin was there, and looked over at him. He held out the wallet for Robin, and snatched his hand away when Robin took it back. There was something about this guy that reminded Robin of a horse that’d been beaten one too many times. He’d seen a mare like that once before, she’d shied away from every person who tried to get near her. It had taken months to get her to accept a saddle again. Robin took a deep breath and he, tried to smile. 

“Ah, yes,” Fenris seemed to be considering his answer. “I’ve never had one, either.” 

Robin laughed, probably too hard, and then covered his mouth when Fenris looked shocked, startled again. “Sorry, uh… I’m pretty exhausted, it’s been a long day.” 

“Mm,” Fenris hummed. He looked around the kitchen. “Do you need food? I have little to offer, but something could be found…” 

“It’s alright, Varric fed me back at the, uh, Hanged Man.” 

Fenris quirked a brow up. “You found it palatable?” he asked. 

“I did my best not to look to hard at the meat in the stew,” Robin admitted, “but it was fine.” 

“Fine is probably the best compliment you could give the stew at the Hanged Man.” Fenris gestured to a door at the other end of the kitchen, which presumably let out to the rest of the house. “There’s a room you can use. It’s, not very clean, but this was short notice…”

Robin nodded. “It’s fine. I just need somewhere to park my head, I don’t mind some cobwebs.” 

“Cobwebs, yes…” 

When they got out of the kitchen, into the main bulk of the mansion, Robin realized that cobwebs were the least of his problems. The mansion had seen better days, and it looked like at some point an army had stampeded through it. There was overturned furniture, scorch marks on the floor, and deep gouges out of some of the walls that Robin thought looked like they were, probably, made by a sword. 

Or something with really big claws. 

Robin didn’t want to think about things with claws that big. 

When they got up to the second floor, he saw the first corpse. It was just sitting there, slumped against a wall, mostly rotted away so that Robin felt like _skeleton_ was probably a better descriptor. He stopped dead at the top of the stairs and stared at it. 

Fenris didn’t seem to notice, at least not until he realized that Robin wasn’t at his heel anymore, and he looked back. Then he looked at the corpse. “Ah, yes,” Fenris said. “I haven’t bother to move them.”

 _Them?_ “There are more?” Robin asked. 

Fenris just nodded. Robin nodded, too, not sure what else there was to do. He looked at the skeleton again, was proud for a moment that he didn’t immediately throw up at the sight of his first dead body, and he thought back to Anders telling him, _You’ll get used to it._

He didn’t want to get used to it. 

Fenris let him into a room off this landing, which had a myriad of things stuffed into it. There were some old armoires, chests, rolled up carpets, and large, ornate frames that had had the paintings torn out of them. Robin and Fenris both stopped in the doorway and looked about. Robin felt, homesick, or something, when he took in the decrepit space, but at least there was a bed, tucked away in one corner, and he wouldn’t have to sleep on a couch, or the floor. 

He walked inside and over to the bed, dropped the bundle of clothing onto it, and a cloud of dust puffed up from the blankets. Robin coughed, pulling his sleeve forward to cover his mouth with it until the dust settled again. 

“I apologize, I would offer you new blankets,” Fenris said from the door, “but they’re all like that.”

“It’s fine,” Robin lied. It wasn’t fine, he had no idea how he was going to sleep on this thing, but he could already feel that Fenris wanted to escape. He had one foot out the door already. 

Robin didn’t blame him. He wanted to be alone, and think. Sleep. Hopefully wake up back home, in his own bed, with the dog panting in his face and _too many chores_ to do. 

Fenris nodded curtly. “I’ll leave you, then,” he said as he backed out of the door. He closed it behind himself, but left it open so that a chink of light came in from the landing outside. 

Robin sat down on the bed. More dust rose up around him, but he ignored it and put his face in his hands. He felt like crying, from exhaustion, or fear, or the crushing, anxious feeling that he wasn’t going to be able to escape this, but instead he took a deep breath and steeled himself. 

The first night was going to be bad, he knew it, but if he stopped himself now and just went to bed, he’d be fine. 

_Fine,_ he repeated as he tugged the quilt back and crawled under it. The bed smelled like dust, and damp, and he knew that his allergies would be killing him by the time he woke up, but he put his head on the lumpy pillow and closed his eyes. _He’d be fine. Just get to sleep._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to say a quick thanks to ecarius for looking over this chapter and making sure everything made sense! Also wanted to plug her fic, [Anyway, Here's Kirkwall](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5691598/chapters/13111177). If you like fics about modern characters in Thedas, or just Dragon Age in general, I suggest you check it out.
> 
> And thank you, reader for coming this far. I really appreciate every one who decides to read this. Hope to see you all next chapter!


	5. Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While he waits for more information from Hawke and Anders, Robin starts to formulate a plan. He also gets a chance to talk to Fenris alone, and learns some things about Kirkwall and Thedas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up really long. I'm not finished Chapter Six yet, but I've got a good start on it so I wanted to post this. Notes at the top today because I wanted to post a warning for discussion of Slavery! Nothing that isn't in canon, but it's there.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read this far, left kudos, etc! I appreciate you. :) And hope to see you next chapter!

Robin had laid on his back as long as he could manage, until the mattress’ lumps and the dust that permeated all the fabric grew too uncomfortable to bear and he forced himself to his feet to pace the room. He didn’t really know what to do. Hawke had said he’d check in with Anders to see if he’d come up with any ideas, but Robin knew he couldn’t rely on them to do all the legwork for him. There must have been some way he could go about gathering information on his own, though he had no idea where to begin looking. 

A library? He wondered if they had libraries in this world. There were books, at least, so _someone_ must keep them somewhere. 

He stopped his pacing and turned to the door. He didn’t know what time it was, morning he guessed because there was some light drifting in from outside the room that looked like sunlight. Robin was used to being up early, but he had no idea how early that translated to here. There were no clocks, and his phone wasn’t any help. According to it, it was 11 at night. He supposed it was, back home, or maybe dimensional leaps had fucked up the inner works of the thing. 

He hadn’t bothered unlocking it to check. He didn’t want to wear down the battery, or make himself more homesick than he already was looking at photos. Old text messages from people he might never see again. 

Robin clenched his fists and dug his nails into his palms, hard, to stop _that_ train of thought in its tracks. He wouldn’t go there, not yet. There was still a chance he could get home. He just had to learn more about this world, find answers to all his questions.

They had mages, he knew that much. If they had mages, that meant there was magic, and magic could mean anything. 

He took a deep breath and poked his head out the door. There was no one on the landing, just the corpse, which he did his very best to avoid looking at, and the house seemed quiet. Peaceful. Dust motes swirled in patches of early-morning light that shone in through half-boarded up windows. From the landing he could see down to the main hall, where a large circle of light made a spotlight in the centre of the room. When Robin looked up, he saw that the light was coming from a giant hole in the ceiling.

“What a dump,” Robin muttered to himself. He wondered when, exactly, Fenris had moved in and made a mental note to ask him, or maybe Hawke as the elf didn’t seem too willing to engage in small talk. 

He tiptoed across the landing in an attempt to not wake up Fenris. He didn’t know which bedroom was his, but he needed to do _something_ and at some point, he’d decided that he’d make his way to the kitchen and look into what Fenris kept in his pantry. 

It didn’t take Robin long to realize that when Fenris had said he didn’t have much to offer, he meant it. Not that Robin had been expecting a pantry full of packaged, easy-to-make food. In all honesty, he hadn’t known what to expect. Maybe porridge, fantasy books always seemed to have their characters eat porridge for breakfast. While most of the cupboards he opened seemed to be mostly filled with cobwebs, broken dishes, and the occasional bottle of wine, he did find some bread, the remains of some bird on a covered plate, vegetables that looked only a little familiar to him, and a ring in the floor that, when tugged on, opened up a trap door to what Robin figured was a cellar. He stared into this yawning maw of darkness and thought about the corpse back up, on the landing. He shut the trap door again, thinking better of it, and settled for a piece of bread and some of the anonymous bird. 

Unable to find a clean plate to use, he settled for just his hands and sat down at the lone chair to eat. 

It only took him about five minutes of just sitting there for the melancholy to sneak back in again. He stared at whorls in the wood of the table and tried not to think about _home_. He only had a mediocrum of success. Usually, after breakfast he’d drive out to the farm for morning chores. Bring horses in from the field, clear out stalls, and take the horses he was in charge of out for exercise in the ring. That morning, it looked like once he finished eating he had no choice but to wait around, for someone to come and tell him what to do. 

Even if he knew what he wanted to do, to go try to find a library, he still needed someone to point him in the right direction. 

Until then, he was basically useless. 

Robin put his food down on the table and let his head drop into his hands. He shook, on the verge of tears, but not quite frustrated ( _homesick)_ enough to actually cry. 

He slammed his fists down onto the table, stood up so abruptly the chair clattered back to the ground, and then stuffed the remainder of his meal into his mouth. Instead of sitting idle, he’d put himself to use. And since he couldn’t go looking for a library without Hawke, or Fenris, or someone to take him there, he’d start with something he _could_ do. 

He’d clean.

&&&

Fenris found him balanced precariously on a chair, trying to get cobwebs off the ceiling in the kitchen. Robin had decided to start in this room, because he couldn’t stand the idea of food that people actually had to eat being prepared in a place that had two inches of dust on every surface.

Robin looked over his shoulder when he heard a shuffle at the door and found Fenris standing there. He stared around the room, that dazed look back on his face, and finally settled on Robin. 

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

Robin carefully got down from the chair. He looked at the cloth in his hands, a dust rag he’d found stashed away in a closet off the kitchen. Along with other cleaning supplies that hadn’t been used in a long, _long_ time. He smiled at Fenris and tilted his head a little to one side. “Uh, morning,” he said, “I’m cleaning.” 

Fenris raised one, dark brow. “Do you usually clean stranger’s homes?” 

Robin flushed a little. It hadn’t even occurred to him that maybe Fenris _liked_ living this way. “Ah, well, I guess not? I’m not used to just sitting around and I woke up pretty early…” He trailed off and dropped his eyes back to the ground. “I can stop?” 

He didn’t hear Fenris move, but when he looked up he’d come further into the kitchen and was looking around again. Robin had found a mop and a functioning bucket, that he’d filled with water from a pump in the back courtyard (he’d noticed it the night before, when Hawke had hurried him inside) that, through some miracle, still worked well enough to pump enough water to fill a bucket. Robin had started with the floor, which he’d regretted the moment he’d started to dust and knocked spiders and who-knows-what to the ground. At least the floor wouldn’t suffer from being mopped twice.

The kitchen, Robin thought, was starting to look a little more habitable. 

Fenris ran his hand along the clean counter top. He had his back turned to Robin, but after a moment he saw his shoulders had begun to shake. 

In a bit of a panic that he might have offended this man who had been kind enough to let him stay in his home, Robin started to apologize. “I’m sorry, I should have asked before I started-”

“It’s, fine,” Fenris cut him off. He turned around and there was actually a small, hesitant smile on his face. “I suppose it was about time this place began to look like someone lived here.”

Robin had a feeling there was more, there, to be said, but he let it go. It wasn’t his place to pry into these people’s lives. “Varric said he started a rumour that this place was haunted.” 

“Who said it’s not?” Fenris asked, brows raised. He sounded completely serious, but there was just enough of a hint of a smirk on his lips that Robin knew he was messing with him. 

At least, Robin was pretty sure he was. He laughed anyway. 

He didn’t really know what Anders had been on about, Fenris seemed like he was nice. He had a hunted look in his eyes, and he seemed hesitant to get close to people. Always a bit closed off. Even Robin had noticed this in the short time he’d interacted with him. But he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would require such a vicious response even to him just being mentioned in conversation. The way he had talked about Fenris, it sounded like Anders hated the guy. 

He did understand the nickname _Broody_ , though. Fenris, much like Robin himself, seemed to have a permanent case of ‘angry resting face.’ 

“I helped myself to some food, I hope you don’t mind? I get grouchy without breakfast,” Robin said. 

Fenris nodded in reply. He drifted over to the counter and picked up the towel covering what was left of the bird. He picked at it for a bit, almost thoughtfully, fingers separating bite-sized bits of meat from the bone. Eventually, he asked, “Do you have a plan?” 

“Not really,” Robin admitted. “I know that Anders said he would...Look into things. But I don’t want to rely on other people to get me home.” 

“So you want to go home?” 

Robin nodded. “Yes. I don’t belong here.” 

Fenris looked back at him, only making the briefest of eye contact. “There are some who would think you were brought here by the Maker-”

“The Maker?” Robin asked. Fenris had said it like he was being derisive, a snarl just at the edge of each word.

“Ah, right. You wouldn’t know, if you _are_ from another world.”

There was doubt in his voice, and Robin realized that Fenris didn’t trust him, yet. He had been mistaken to think that they would become friends so easily. Something had shifted in the air, some tension had formed that hadn’t been there before, and Robin’s eyes were once again drawn to the split in Fenris’ lip, the wound on his cheekbone. _How did he get those?_ The question rang in Robin’s head again. The elf might look small, slender, but there were strong muscles under his skin and the look of, not a viper like Hawke, but a _wolf_ in his eyes. 

Robin shook himself. He was getting poetic. His nerves were screaming at him to run, though. 

“Do you know what Tevinter is?” Fenris asked. 

Robin shook his head. “Never heard of it.” 

“Hm. What about a man named Danarius?” 

The way Fenris said that name, with such _contempt_ and...Detachment, it made Robin’s skin scrawl. “No,” he replied. “I-I haven’t. Should I have?” 

Fenris didn’t reply for a long time. He just looked at Robin, holding his eyes for the longest he had. “If you are telling the truth, about being from another world, then no. You shouldn’t have.” He paused and looked away. “I don’t trust you yet, Robin. But you don’t seem...Dangerous.” 

Then, as if as an afterthought, to ease the tension he’d created, Fenris glanced around his kitchen and added, “Except, perhaps, to spiders.” 

Robin didn’t laugh, or even smile. He just nodded his head and stood there, shocked and pinned down by this man’s presence. He’d been right to assume that they were all dangerous, all of Hawke’s friends. He was pretty sure that Fenris had planned to kill him, if he’d given the wrong answer. Hawke had, the night before, given Fenris permission if he turned out to be...A what? 

Robin decided he needed answers. He set his jaw and squared his shoulders. “Look, I don’t know much about this place yet, but I can tell there’s...Something going on here, and I’m going to have to start asking questions.”

Fenris didn’t look at him, or say anything in response, so Robin took that as permission to continue. “What’s an abomination?”

Robin’s question hung in the air for a few moments, before Fenris finally answered with one of his own. “How much have you been told about Anders?” 

Robin tilted his head. “Not much. He’s a mage, and a healer. He also doesn’t like you very much.”

Fenris sneered. “Of course. He is also possessed by a demon of Vengeance. That is what an abomination is, a mage who has lent its body to a demon in order to gain more _power_.” 

“That’s what you think I am?” Robin asked, before he could stop himself. He decided not to care, for the moment, about Anders. Anders’ wasn’t in the kitchen with them to defend himself, so Robin would give him the benefit of the doubt. He had a sense that there was something else going on here, and he’d ask for a much more neutral party to explain. 

He was more concerned about Fenris’ opinion of him, than Fenris’ opinion of Anders. 

Fenris paused before answering. “At first, yes, though I have my doubts now.” 

“Do those doubts have something to do with asking me about this Danarius guy?”

“I thought-” Fenris faltered. He shook his head and looked down at the ground. “Hawke had no reason to bring you here, there are other places he could have hidden you away. I thought you might have been sent by _him_.” 

Robin knew enough to understand that Fenris meant Danarius. There was something raw, and bad, there. Something that put that beat-horse look in Fenris’ posture again as he shifted away, towards the door. Robin sighed. “I guess there isn’t anything I can do to stop you from thinking that I’m a, I don’t know, a spy or something. Whatever. I’m sorry Hawke dragged me up here, had I known it would put this much stress on you I would have insisted he just leave me in Darktown.” 

Fenris glanced back at him. “I- I apologize, I haven’t been very hospitable. Did Hawke really drag you here?” 

“Well, Varric suggested it…” Robin mumbled. He fiddled with the dust cloth he still had in his hand. “I got the feeling they were making a joke of some sort, not that this would really be an inconvenience.” 

Fenris took his turn to sigh. “You were honest with me last night, when they wanted to use lies to cover up your origins. I appreciate that.”

“So you believe me, then?” Robin asked. 

Fenris shrugged. “When there are no other options, the impossible is the only thing left... I will reserve the right to change my judgement, however.”

“Fair,” Robin said. He couldn’t ask for anything more than that.

“But, I should be truthful with you, as well. I thought-” Fenris paused and seemed to, catch his breath, and take a moment to put up walls. “I was a slave. I escaped, but the man I called _Master_ chased me, all the way to Kirkwall. I thought that- It has been three years now, since I met Hawke and started living in this house. It belonged to him, and I hoped that if I waited here long enough he would eventually come for me again. This time, I would be ready for him, though. He wouldn’t get the chance to take me back.” 

Robin stared at him. He had no idea what to say. His instinct was to give Fenris a hug. Whenever his friends were sad a big hug usually did the trick, or at least helped, and Robin was just large enough that his hugs were all-encompassing, but he knew Fenris wouldn’t appreciate that. 

Fenris didn’t seem like the kind of person who liked being touched by near-strangers. Even if it was with good intentions. So Robin just stared as he tried to think of something, meaningful, to say, beyond, _Well, shit._

Fenris laughed at the shocked look on Robin’s face. “You seem surprised.” 

Robin shook himself. “We...Don’t have slavery where I’m from. It’s illegal- It has been for a very long time. I don’t really even have a concept of what that would be like. To be-”

“Owned?” Fenris asked.

Robin nodded. HE swallowed hard. With this bit of information, he began to piece things together. “Danarius was your master?” he asked. 

Fenris grunted in reply. 

Robin thought of something else. “Danarius was a mage, wasn’t he?” 

Fenris’ eyes widened, just a fraction, but it was enough to answer Robin’s question. Before he made Fenris answer, Robin crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. “Okay. That makes a bit more sense.” 

Fenris blinked. 

“I know it’s probably a nuisance to have me here, but I’m stuck in this world for now. I’ll do my best to not be in your way, so...For now, let’s just make the most out of being roommates, alright?” 

Fenris started to laugh, and it was genuine enough that it made Robin smile, too. 

“Alright,” Fenris replied. “Does this mean you’re going to continue to clean my kitchen?”

“Yes,” Robin said without hesitation. “This room is a disaster, and I’ll be honest, I don’t even want to think about the rest of the estate…”

Fenris laughed some more, a deep chuckle in his throat, and Robin smiled at him.

&&&

“I agreed to have Robin stay in my home, this does not mean I agreed to host all of you,” Fenris grumbled as he observed the group of people who had invaded his kitchen.

Robin had cleaned, all afternoon, and the room actually looked like someone lived there instead of it just being a place to host ghosts. He was actually pretty proud, and he’d even convinced Fenris to chip in when he’d needed some help fixing up the cabinet doors so they all hung straight. 

Fenris hadn’t said much, but he hadn’t been hostile, either.

For the most part, Fenris had slunk off to other parts of the estate and stayed well out of Robin’s way. He looked like he wanted to do that again, as Hawke and Varric settled themselves at the table (which now had a total of three chairs that Robin had rescued from the great hall and fixed up to the best of his ability), while Anders lurked uneasily by the door. He kept shooting nasty looks in Fenris’ direction, but they were mostly ignored. 

“Did you hire a decorator?” Hawke asked. 

“No,” Fenris ground out. “Hawke, what do you want?”

“This kitchen looks like it belongs in my estate. Almost. Mother would never approve of this kind of tile…” 

“Hawke,” Fenris snapped. He sounded like he was about to lose his patience, so Robin decided to step in. 

“I cleaned it this morning,” he said. “Did you find something out?” 

Hawke looked at him. “Really? I’ve been trying to convince Fenris to clear out this place for three years, and you managed to get to him in a night? I’m impressed!” 

Fenris grumbled, “He didn’t ask,” which got a laugh out of Varric. 

Robin ignored them both, and he ignored Hawke’ attempts at, humour, or deflecting the conversation. “Anders, do you want to sit down?” he asked. 

Anders reacted like he hadn’t expected anyone to actually acknowledge that he was there, and snapped his head up to stare at Robin, then at the empty chair at the table. Robin kept an inviting smile on his face. 

“I’ll stand,” Anders finally said, after some deliberation. 

Robin nodded. He left the chair empty, just in case. Fenris was leaned up against the counter, while Robin just stood there, awkwardly, and stared at Hawke in hopes that he’d decide to actually contribute some information that could get them started. It was afternoon and despite all the cleaning he’d gotten done, Robin felt like he’d wasted half the day away. 

All that time he could have spent looking for a way back home. 

Hawke scratched at his beard. “There’s no easy way to go about looking into this without drawing the attention of some unsavoury people,” he said eventually. His voice had lost its humourous tone, he was all business now. “As far as I know, it’s not possible to travel between worlds…At least, I have never read anything about it, but I’m not a very studious mage.”

So Hawke was a mage. No one had stated it outright, but Robin had started to suspect it. 

“I’ve never heard anything about it, either,” Anders chipped in. “Your other world doesn’t exist to us. We have Thedas, the Fade, and the Void, but that’s all. So unless you walked out of the Fade into Darktown…” 

Robin bristled a bit. “Look, I’m not a demon-”

“Who told you about demons?” Hawke asked. He narrowed his eyes and he looked to Fenris. 

Robin continued to glower in Hawke’s direction, not even glancing to see if Fenris wanted to step in. “Fenris told me, because I wanted to know what an _abomination_ was. Look, I’m not one. And I don’t want to get caught up in your world’s politics-”

“You’ll have to, if you’re going to stay here,” Anders said. 

“Anders.” Both Hawke and Robin spoke at the same time, their voices barely distinguishable from the other’s. Both of them startled at this, and looked at each other.

Varric laughed. “See, Blondie, I was right. He _does_ sound like Hawke. Especially now that he’s not so shaken up.” 

“They look similar, too,” Fenris muttered from behind Robin. 

Robin inspected Hawke. He supposed that, beneath the beard, their faces were similar enough that they could at least be related. Robin’s hair was darker, closer to black than Hawke’s was, and his eyes were not quite that _blue_ , but they had the same kind of nose - or at least had at one point, Hawke’s had been broken one too many times to really tell - and the shape of their eyes was the same. 

The biggest difference between them was their size. Robin looked like a stick next to Hawke’s bulging muscles. 

“This is why I suggested we say he’s a cousin from Orlais,” Hawke grumbled. He’d been inspecting Robin, as well. 

“Do you even have family in Orlais?” Varric asked. Hawke frowned and his eyes grew distant as he contemplated that. Varric laughed. “As long as they don’t stand side-by-side, no one will notice,” he said, “And even if they do, I doubt anyone will want to cause trouble with Hawke.” 

“I do have a reputation,” Hawke said. 

Robin sighed a little. He felt tired again. There was too many people, and not enough was being accomplished. He’d liked it better when it had just been him and Fenris. Hawke and Varric were both loud, demanding people, and that took up a lot of Robin’s energy to keep up with them. 

“So we have no idea how I got here, then,” Robin said. 

“Just what you’ve told us,” Anders said. He, like Robin, looked tired. “Do you know what happened to the book?” 

Robin shook his head. He couldn’t remember seeing it when he’d woken up, but he hadn’t exactly been thinking clearly. “I could have dropped it back in the bookstore, or it fell in that pile of garbage I woke up next to…” 

“It might be a good idea to go look for it,” Anders said. “It’s just a hunch, but touching the book could take you back home, just as it brought you here.” 

Varric shook his head. “I don’t think my novel is a gateway between words, Blondie.” 

“That’s why I said it was a hunch.” Anders shrugged. “It’s the only lead we have.” 

Robin nodded, then remembered what he’d thought of that morning. Before he’d distracted himself with cleaning. “Do you have a library in Kirkwall? Somewhere I could go and do research on my own, to find a way home?” 

Everyone looked at each other then. The looks they were giving didn’t bode well, Robin thought. 

“Researching magic can be...Dangerous,” Hawke said eventually. “What little there is available to the public isn’t much help, and the stuff that is is kept locked up in Circles so _apostates_ like Anders and I can’t get our hands on it.”

“As it should be,” Fenris cut in. 

Anders shot him a nasty look, but Hawke just talked over them both. “Some people keep private collections, but trying to track down those people is like looking for a single flea on a mabari.” 

Robin frowned. He had no idea what a mabari was, but he understood what Hawke meant. _Near impossible to find._ “Okay, what about sciences, then?”

“Sciences?” Hawke asked. 

Robin had thought about quantum physics and string theory, theoretical physics. All that stuff he’d been hopeless at in college and barely scraped by a passing grade in the one course he’d made the mistake of taking. He wish he’d paid more attention now. Though, it seemed like this world hadn’t advanced to that point, yet. He supposed if you had magic to do things for you… “Nevermind,” Robin said. “I’d still like to be able to look into some things. And learn more about, uh, Thedas? Was that what you called this world?”

“Yep,” Varric said. “You’re in Kirkwall, in the Free Marches.” 

Robin had no point of reference for where, or what the Free Marches were, but he nodded. He needed a map, and a compiled history of the world, or something. _Game guide,_ he thought and snorted a little. “So, Library?” 

Hawke scratched at some beard some more. “There’s a library at the estate, but the slavers cleared out most of the books. The best bet is the one in the Keep… I’m not sure how we’d get Robin in there without _someone_ asking questions, though.” 

Varric seemed to perk up at that. “Do we need disguises?” he asked. 

“No,” Hawke said, then he considered it, “Well, perhaps. We need a convincing backstory for Robin. Something to trick Aveline…” 

Varric rubbed his hands together. “I can think of something. Kid, any preference for where you’re from?” 

Robin thought about that a moment. He glanced back at Fenris, who raised an eyebrow when he caught the look. “Not Tevinter,” Robin said. 

Varric nodded curtly, and Robin was pretty sure he caught a bit of a smile on Fenris’ face just before he looked away. “It will take me a bit to work something out,” Varric said. “Why don’t you go with Anders and Hawke to look for the book in Darktown?” 

Robin had nearly forgotten. “Ah, right. That’s a good idea.” 

Hawke nodded. “We can tackle the Keep and the library tomorrow. That will give Varric enough time to come up with something convincing. The public aren’t allowed in the Keep after dark, anyway, and if we’re going to go stomping around Darktown we’ll need until at least then. Robin may also want some better boots.”

Robin looked down at his feet. He was in his socks, he’d kicked off his shoes in the foyer before he’d started mopping. He glanced at them, a pair of beat-up runners, that already looked like they needed replacing. He’d only spent a few hours in Darktown the day before. 

“I don’t have any money to buy clothes,” Robin said. 

“I’ll lend you some,” Hawke said. “We’re rich, you know.”

Varric shook his head a little. “Not if you keep spending it, Hawke. Are you still paying for Merrill’s rent?” 

“Yes, and she can _never_ know,” Hawke said. He waved a hand, dismissing Varric. “It’s fine, we’ll go to the Lowtown market and find some sturdy boots for him. He won’t fit Carver’s, but there’s no need to bother with the clothes. He can just have his pick of Carver’s old fare.” 

“I’m not sure how I feel about stealing clothing from your brother,” Robin grumbled. He tugged at his collar. 

Fenris cut in then. He’d been quiet for most of the conversation. Robin had almost forgotten he was there. “There is clothing here. You’re welcome to look through it to see if any of it fits.” 

Robin thought about all the trunks and armoires that had been stuffed into the room he’d slept in the night before. He hadn’t even thought to look through them, hadn’t thought it was really any of his business to go snooping. He hadn’t actually seen much of the estate yet, just what had been directly off the kitchen. He nodded, though. “That sounds like a good plan,” he said. 

“It’s not like Carver is using the clothes,” Hawke grumbled. “Saves me the trouble of having to find somewhere to put all of it…” 

Robin wondered what had happened to Carver, that he wasn’t using his clothing anymore, but he decided that he didn’t want to pry into it. 

Anders stepped away from the door briefly, but only to readjust his cloak. “Not that I don’t enjoy the company, but I need to return to the clinic. So I’ll leave the stomping around Darktown to you, Hawke. I don’t need to draw more attention to myself.” 

“No, the feathers do that well enough,” Hawke teased. Anders flushed a little, but he rolled his eyes and didn’t seem too bothered. Hawke stood up from the table and stretched out his shoulders. “Fenris, fancy a walk?” 

Robin had expected Fenris to stay behind, at least when Anders had been slated to go with them. The elf looked hesitant now, but he eventually nodded his head slowly. “I’ll need a moment to retrieve my armour,” he said. 

“Take your time,” Hawke said with a grin. 

Fenris nodded and slipped out of the kitchen, off into another part of the estate. 

_Armour._ Robin looked at Hawke, and his exposed arms and fairly haphazard ensemble of brown leather and black fabric. Maybe mages didn’t wear armour in this world.

Varric stood, as well, and walked over to the door to stand next to Anders. “I’ll be off, then, and make sure Anders makes it back to Darktown safe and sound. Kid, how do you feel about being a lost Antivan noble?” 

Robin grimaced at him. “Maybe something normal, actually,” he said. “I worked with horses as a living back home, so...Something like that would work.” 

Varric shook his head. “A stablehand? That’s no fun. I’ll think of something.” 

He opened the door and gestured for Anders to go ahead. Robin sighed when they were out of the room, leaving him alone with Hawke. He sat down at the table to wait for Fenris to come back. They were quiet, for a while, until Hawke finally spoke up. Robin had a suspicion that he was the kind of guy who couldn’t stand silence. 

“Homesick, yet?” Hawke asked. 

Robin shrugged. “A little. I’m trying not to think about it.” 

“That’s the best you can do, really,” Hawke said. “Kirkwall’s not my home, either.”

Robin didn’t want to say what he thought. _At least you could go home, if you wanted to._ Instead, he just nodded and distracted himself with thoughts of new boots, and another trip to Darktown. He wasn’t looking forward to the smell, but at least there was a chance they might get some answers.


	6. The Easy Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin buys new boots and revisits Darktown in search of the book that brought him to Kirkwall.

“Aha!” Hawke exclaimed and resurfaced from a market stall with a pair of boots in hand. They were green, with fancy embroidery all over them. More like slippers than boots, when Robin gave them a harder look. “Try these out,” Hawke said and brandished them in Robin’s direction.

“I don’t think they’ll fit,” Robin said. He took them, anyway. _Were they made of silk?_ “Or survive Darktown,” he added. 

Hawke pouted. 

“Wouldn’t leather be better than, er, silk?” Robin raised an eyebrow. 

Hawke snatched the boots back and tossed them back on the table. “Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “If you don’t want to look fancy…”

“I want to protect my feet,” Robin retorted. 

He was, feeling better. That might have been a stretch, and he knew that the feelings he was suppressing would catch up to him eventually, but he was beginning to seem more like himself again. Which meant his ability to tolerate Hawke’s joking was slowly dwindling. Robin was able to dish out the sarcastic quips just as well as anyone else, but at heart he was a pretty no-nonsense person. He just glared at the back of Hawke’s head as he continued to rummage through piles of second-hand boots. 

Robin looked through them as well, until he found a pair of boots that were similar enough to his riding boots back home, but in soft brown instead of polished black, that they _nearly_ set him back to his sullen, homesick mood again. He stared at them, then reached down to test them against the sole of his running shoes to see if they would fit. He wasn’t sure if he would be allowed to try them on. The owner of the shop was already watching them closely, as if he expected them to steal. 

Luckily, the boots seemed to match up pretty well. 

“These will work,” he announced. 

Hawke looked over, a pair of blue monstrosities in his hand (Robin wasn’t sure where this stall had acquired so many ugly shoes) and he eyed the boots in Robin’s hand. “They’re a bit plain,” he said. 

“They look just like your boots,” Robin replied. He gestured at Hawke’s feet, which were clad in a similar pair - this seemed to be a common style. 

Hawke shrugged and tossed the blue things back on the pile. “Very well,” he said and turned to the stall owner, “How much for these, my good sir?” 

“One silver,” the man replied with a grunt. 

Robin stared at the boots in his hands. He had no idea how much one silver was, or what that would translate to in Canadian dollars, but by the look on Hawke’s face it was too much. 

“How about 30 bits?” 

The stall owner shook his head. “They’ve got no holes in them, and they’re fine leather. I won’t take less than 80.” 

Robin saw Hawke’s jaw tighten a little at that comment. He wanted to step in and say that it was fine, he’d pay for them, or just make do with his runners, but he had no money. Just two useless bank cards and a twenty dollar bill that’d be worth nothing in this world. So instead he straightened up a bit and tried to look, imposing. Like he wasn’t the kind of guy who would _absolutely_ get hustled while buying a pair of boots in a market. 

“How does 50 sound, then?” Hawke asked. He pulled out his coin purse from somewhere on his person, and picked through the coin. 

The stall owner looked between Robin and Hawke, then shrugged. “Fine, 50 bits. Pay up, Ferelden.” 

Hawke pouted. “We’re still on that? It’s been three years,” he grumbled, but he counted out the coins and handed them over. The stall owner ignored him and snatched up the money, immediately turning his back on both Robin and Hawke with a derisive sniff. 

Hawke shook his head a little and returned his coin pouch to an inside pocket of his jacket. “Well, that’s settled,” he said, “Now, where did Fenris get to?” 

Robin did a quick scan of the market square, over the heads of most of the people there, until he spotted Fenris leaned up against a wall in a patch of shade. Fenris had been watching them, because he made eye contact with Robin and nodded ever so slightly before he pulled away from the wall and waded through the mass of people towards them. People got out of his way. 

Robin didn’t blame them. Fenris was dressed in armour that was all angles and dark leather that contrasted nicely with the swirling, organic lines of his tattoos and his white hair. He looked menacing, even if he was shorter and narrower than most of the thugs Robin had seen in his time in Kirkwall. 

Thug wasn’t the right word for Fenris, Robin decided. He was flat-out dangerous. 

Fenris joined them and glanced at the boots Robin had in his hands. “They look sturdy,” he commented. 

“Hopefully,” Robin replied.

The three of them drifted away from the market stalls, down a side alley, where Robin stopped to brace himself against the wall as he tugged off his runners and put the boots on in their place. They fit surprisingly well, though were a little tight across the toes. He had a feeling that the soft leather would stretch, given time, so he didn’t complain. Instead, he looked at Hawke, and said, “I’ll pay you back for these when-”

Hawke held up a hand. “No, you won’t. Consider them a gift for the excitement you’ve brought into my otherwise boring life.”

Robin raised one brow. He was fairly certain that Hawke’s life could in no way be described as ‘boring,’ and judging by the look Fenris was giving him, he also thought that Hawke was full of shit. 

Robin pulled his hand away from the wall and brushed off the dust onto his trousers. “Alright, but I’m going to find a way to pay you back,” he said, then gestured in a vague forward direction, to indicate that he was ready to go. 

Hawke looked like he wanted to protest again, but Fenris cut him off. “We should make our way to Darktown, if we want to leave before nightfall.” 

“Ah, right,” Hawke said. “I’m sure Robin is eager to get back home to, er, where was it you said you were from again?”

“Earth,” Robin reminded Hawke. 

“That’s the place!” Hawke chuckled to himself as he led the way down the alley, and along twists and turns that Robin could barely keep track of. 

He tried his best to concentrate on the route Hawke took them, but it seemed to be purposefully confusing, as if Hawke was making sure no one could follow them. By the way he and Fenris kept casting glances about them, and with how they were both decked out to the teeth in armour and weapons, Robin had a feeling that wasn’t far from the truth. He had gawked openly at Fenris’ sword when he’d come down from his room, back the mansion. The blade was almost as tall as Fenris was, and Robin had no idea how he could carry it. At the moment, it was strapped across his torso and clanked quietly as Fenris walked. 

They were not the only people Robin had seen dressed in full, or at least what Robin would call full, plate. He’d seen city guards on the way to Lowtown, and now, as they passed into dirtier, poorer parts of the city, he saw more thugs dressed in cobbled together pieces of plate and chainmail. 

Hawke, as it turned out, led them to the lift Robin had taken with Anders the day before. The three of them piled on and Hawke turned the crank to get the thing to bring them down, into the dark. The elevator lurched under their feet and Robin very nearly reached out to grab Hawke by the arm to steady himself.

&&&

“Is this the place?” Fenris asked.

They’d stopped down a side passage of Darktown and Robin was staring at the black, damaged lamp that lit up the intersection. It looked familiar, he got that same feel of gothic castles, but he’d also seen _so many other lamps_ as they wound their way through the passages and mine shafts that he had no idea if this was the one he’d seen when he’d first arrived in Kirkwall. “Maybe?” Robin said in reply. He didn’t sound very sure of himself. 

“Well, let’s have a look down here,” Hawke gestured to the narrow tunnel beside them. “No harm in looking, though we may have to resume the search another day, if we don’t find anything.”

Robin nodded. He felt a little ashamed that he hadn’t paid closer attention to the route he’d taken through Darktown that first day, but he supposed that no one would really blame him for being so out of it. He’d been transported to another world, for fuck’s sake. He hadn’t had his head about him to make note of which side passage he’d taken. 

At Hawke’s insistence, he led the way down the tunnel and towards the smell of garbage. They reached a dead end, where the tunnel widened a bit into a somewhat-circular room, and Robin instinctively covered his mouth as the affronting garbage heap filled the small space with the smell of rotting meat, vegetables, and who knew what else. He looked up the shaft, where some light still managed to fall down through the wooden slats that boarded it up. 

“I think this is it,” Robin said, his voice muffled in his hand. He turned back to Fenris and Hawke and found them covering their noses and mouths, as well. At least they found the smell as repulsive as he did. 

“Charming place to wake up in,” Fenris muttered. 

Hawke laughed and looked about. Robin did the same, eyes scanning the garbage for the book. He tried very hard to squash down the little, excited voice in his mind that told him he might be going home soon, if only they could find it. He didn’t even know if touching the book would work, that he’d end up back in the bookstore and have a very weird experience to, maybe some day, tell someone about. 

That one time he ended up in Kirkwall. 

“Robin,” Fenris said after a few moments of searching. When Robin looked over, he saw the elf pointing at a dirty, bound novel that sat near the edge of the pile. The words _The Viper’s Nest_ were emblazoned on the cover. Fenris looked reluctant to touch it, and Robin felt exactly the same. 

“Well, there we go,” Hawke commented as he came around the pile and saw the book they were both staring at. 

“What do I do?” Robin asked. He sounded a little strangled. The little voice that had been excited at the potential of going home had finally left, replaced by one that was shouting at him, _What if this doesn’t work?_

Hawke shrugged. “Pick it up, I suppose. It will either send you home or, worst case scenario, nothing happens and we sends Anders off to look for anyone way to get you back to, ah, Earth.”

He butchered the pronunciation of Earth so much that Robin laughed a little, despite himself. Fenris smirked, too, and gently corrected Hawke’s pronunciation. 

“You knew what I meant,” Hawke whined. “Just pick it up, Robin. I want to see what happens.” 

Robin nodded. He crouched down and, with hands that were shaking so much he could barely get ahold of the book, he picked it up. 

Nothing happened. 

He hadn’t really been expecting anything to. 

He just crouched there and stared at the book in his hands in silence. The others said nothing, until Robin finally got up the courage to stand up. He could feel the disappointment come crashing down on him, and there were tears pricking at the corner of his eyes that he desperately did not want to fall. Crying could happen later. “Well,” he said slowly, “I guess it was too easy…”

Hawke patted his shoulder. “Then, we’ll have to try doing things the hard way,” he said and pressed the book a little firmer into Robin’s hands. “Hang on to that, I’m sure Varric and Anders will want to see it.” 

Robin nodded. A thought crossed his mind, and before he could stop it, it made an attempt to escape out his mouth. “What if I can’t-” 

He cut himself off. He didn’t want to finish that sentence. Hawke looked at him, uncomfortable and obviously with no idea what to tell him.

“You can remain at the mansion with me,” Fenris said. “Until a solution is found.” 

Robin heaved a sigh and tried to put a smile back on his face. “Thanks, Fenris,” he said, and he meant it. 

“It’s no problem,” Fenris replied.

“Shall we return to Lowtown, then? We can get dinner at the Hanged Man and see who all is there. I’m sure word’s gotten around, Isabela will want to meet Robin, and we should see if Varric’s come up with some passable backstory for him.” 

Fenris grimaced a little, and Robin echoed the sentiment. He was not looking forward to making more introductions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay between chapters five and six! I have no excuse except that the writing juice just wasn't flowing. Hopefully this chapter isn't too disjointed...and hopefully the next one will at least be a little more exciting, as I believe we'll be catching up to some of the actual plot. :P
> 
> Thank-you to everyone who has read so far, commented, and left kudos! I appreciate all of them! :) Hope to see you next chapter!


	7. Disguise

The Hanged Man was much the way Robin remembered it from the night he arrived in Kirkwall: Dirty and packed with people. A lot of them were even the same people from that night, he was able to recognize a handful of faces in the crowd. At least this time, Robin didn’t draw any attention to himself. After just a night in Kirkwall, he’d practically gone native. His clothes blended in now, and he’d not gotten the chance to shave that morning so his stubble had already started to grow in. Travelling with Hawke also seemed to help, as all the eyes in the room were immediately drawn to him when they entered the tavern, but even so, no one's gaze lingered for very long. 

Hawke stopped just inside the door and scanned the room. "Aha, trust Isabela to always be here when we need her," Hawke said and motioned for Robin and Fenris to follow him. The other tavern goers got out of their way as they approached a table at the far end of the room. 

Robin remembered that Anders had mentioned an Isabela, when Robin had first met him. Isabela, as it turned out, was dressed in the slinkiest outfit Robin had ever seen. She smiled at them all, but immediately her gaze zeroed in on Robin. "So, you're the stray kitten Anders brought home," she purred. “Anders didn’t mention that you were attractive.” 

"Um," Robin said. He didn't know what else to say to that. 

"Don't tease him," Hawke chastised Isabela as he sat down at the table next to her. "We just spent a good part of the day searching high and low in Darktown. We’re all feeling a little fragile right now.” 

Isabela wrinkled her nose. "You smell like it. Whatever were you doing down there? I though Anders wanted to keep you away from the clinic-" 

"We weren't at the clinic, we were looking for something," Hawke said. He gave Robin and Fenris a look that suggested they should sit down, then turned his attention to elsewhere in the Tavern. "Now, where is Norah, I could use a pint, or three."

Robin sat down on the bench opposite them and leaned against the table. He still had the book in his hand and he put it down on the table in front of him. He stared at the cover. It was non-descript, the spine equally so, and now he had no idea why he had pulled it off the shelf in the first place. If he had just left it there… someone else might have picked it up, and then they’d be here in his place. And they might not have been so lucky. They might not have found their way to Anders, and through him, to Hawke. Robin groaned a little, amazed at how exhausted he felt. 

He felt Isabela’s gaze on him and looked up to make the briefest of eye contact before he looked away again. Isabela continued to scrutinize his face. 

“Hawke,” Isabela said slowly, “you haven't been hiding another sibling from us, have you?” 

Hawke laughed and Robin began to suspect that their resemblance was more uncanny than his own eyes were able to pick up.

“No, but it’s eerie, right? Varric noticed, said Robin and I could be twins.” 

“Maybe he's a lost sibling of yours?” Isabela asked. “Did your father ever have an affair…”

“No, there are only two Hawke children left in Thedas and I'm the only one that matters,” Hawke said. He sounded a little morose. 

“Your mother still talks to him, you know,” Isabela told Garrett. 

Robin blinked a few times. Well, at least that confirmed that Hawke’s brother was alive and that he hadn't stolen clothes from a dead man. It did not answer what had happened to him, though. 

“It's not like Hawke can go to the Gallows,” Fenris cut into the conversation. This earned him a weird look from Hawke, and one from Isabela as well. Fenris looked away from them. “Whatever my plight with mages, I do not wish to see Hawke thrown in jail…” 

Isabela grinned and Hawke looked like he was ready to say about a million things, but Robin caught the uncomfortable look on Fenris’ face and decided to stop the conversation in its tracks. The perfectly timed arrival of the barmaid helped him with this. 

“Oh look, we can order alcohol,” he said and gave Norah a little wave in greeting. 

“Oh, wonderful! I'm parched,” Hawke said and swung around to face the direction Robin had waved in. 

Norah arrived at the table and took Hawke’s order of ale, wine for Fenris, and a cider for Robin as he didn't feel like knocking himself out with anything stronger. Not yet, at least. The night was still young. 

“So, Robin, if you’re not Hawke’s long lost brother, then who are you?” Isabela asked once Norah had brought them all their drinks. She leaned across the table and batted her eyelashes at him, making Robin a little uncomfortable. “You don't sound like you're from Kirkwall… Orlesian? Or maybe Antiva, it is hard to place.” 

Robin flushed a little and glanced at Hawke, who shrugged. “She’ll find out sooner or late. And she might have an idea about getting into the library.” 

“Ohh, are you planning a heist?” Isabela asked. She looked between the two of them, excitement clear on her face. “I love heists.” 

“Research,” Robin said. “I need to do some research on, um, inter-dimensional travel…”

Isabela stared at him. “On what, now?” 

And so, Robin took a deep breath and launched into a hushed explanation about where he had come from. He didn't have his phone and wallet with him this time to help corroborate his story, but Fenris and Hawke’s belief in his tale seemed to be enough for Isabela. She was far less suspicious than Fenris, or even Hawke, had been. 

“So you want to get home and think that something in the keep library might help you get there…” Isabela looked thoughtful. “You know, you could just pretend to be Hawke.” 

Hawke choked on his ale. “I'm sorry, pretend to be _me?_ ” 

“Yes! Just give him a haircut and Hawke shave your beard for once, make an appearance like that at the Keep, and send Robin in the next day,” Isabela gestured at both of them as she spoke. “No one will question it, especially if he has Aveline with him.” 

“Shave my beard?” Hawke sounded genuinely offended at the suggestion. 

Robin frowned. “We don't sound alike,” he pointed out, “and I know nothing about this world. I couldn't answer any questions, even if I tried.” 

“Just give it a few days and have Hawke-” she paused and frowned at Hawke “- have Varric school you in the going-ons of Kirkwall. Just enough so no one gets too suspicious when you don't know about the Qunari, or the most recent complaints about the Alienage.” 

Robin narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure-” 

“She… may be onto something,” Fenris interrupted. “We were looking for an appropriate disguise, and this may be it. No one questions Hawke.” 

“Well, they do, but those people tend to not get very far,” Hawke said and gave Robin a wink. 

“That's not very reassuring,” Robin informed him. “I don't know how to fight people. And you’ve got that scar on your nose, which I definitely don’t have.” 

Silence for a moment, then Fenris said, “You’ll learn.” 

Robin shuddered. He supposed he should have seen this coming, the need to learn how to defend himself in this wild, dangerous city, but he was hoping that he would be home before it became necessary. He picked up his cider and took a long drink from the tankard. The liquid caught a little in his throat, burning as it went down, and he realized that ciders here weren't the same as ciders back home. He coughed and thumped at his chest to try and calm the burn. 

“He might not be cut out for battle,” Isabela teased. 

“Oh, if I know Fenris and Hawke, they’ll have him ready to take down a Qunari by the end of the week,” Varric said by way of announcing his arrival. He slid onto the bench next to Robin, bunching him up against Fenris’ side. There was a bit of an awkward shuffle as they all got situated, during which Varric expertly liberating Hawke’s ale from him (to only minor protest). “How did your adventures in Darktown go? I take it you didn't find a solution, as our brooding friend is still here.” 

Robin realized he was scowling again, and he tried his best to smooth out his expression a little. 

“No, no, Fenris is already Broody. You have to think up another one for him,” Isabela informed Varric as she waved down Norah to secure the now-pouting Hawke another drink. “He already looks like Hawke’s doppelgänger, let's not make this more confusing for the kids.” 

“The kids..?” Fenris sounded confused, but no one answered him. Robin just shrugged, which Fenris responded to with a slight raise of his eyebrows.

Hawke was stroking his beard still, as if he was trying to imagine what he would look like without it. If he had to guess, Robin thought Hawke would just look like him. Him, if his nose had been broken a few times. Robin gingerly touched his face and wondered if it would be worth the disguise to break his own nose to emulate the look. He pulled his hand away and picked up his drink.

&&&

Robin was just shy of drunk by the time he, Fenris, and Hawke left the Hanged Man. It was dark and the streets of Hightown were empty, compared to the still-busy streets of the Lowtown market they had passed through on their way back to Fenris’ mansion. Robin wasn't really paying attention to Fenris and Hawke’s low conversation, the alcohol had made him sleepy and he has been up since before dawn. He had no idea what time it was, or if they even told time here like the did back on Earth, but his body was telling him it was time to get the fuck to sleep.

He yawned and stretched, then nearly lost his footing and bumped into Hawke. “Sorry-” 

Hawke steadied him. “No problem,” he said. “So, how do you feel about Isabela’s suggestion?” 

“I’m not sure,” Robin admitted. “I won’t have to break my nose, will I?” He hadn’t been able to get passed that since it had been brought up. There was no way anyone would believe he was Hawke is his nose was so straight. 

Hawke touched the scar thoughtfully. 

“The wound would be difficult to replicate,” Fenris said. “Perhaps if we broke both your noses, in the same fashion…” 

Robin and Hawke both protested at the same time. Fenris chuckled at them and shook his head a little. He, too, had had quite a lot of wine that night. Isabela had only encouraged all of them. “You two are very much alike. It becomes more apparent the longer Robin has been here…” 

“You should take that as a compliment,” Hawke added. 

Robin rolled his eyes. 

“Perhaps we should start smaller than the Keep,” Hawke went on. “I’m too much of a fixture there, these days, what with all the arguing I’ve had to do to get the Amell estate back in our family’s hands. The Viscount knows me, by now… But we could test Isabela’s theory somewhere I’m less well known.” 

“And where is that?” Fenris asked. 

Robin snorted. He’d begun to learn that making fun of Hawke’s apparent fame was a common pastime among the group. Varric and Isabela were especially fond of it, but even Fenris and Anders seemed to get involved. 

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” Hawke said. He tapped his chin. “I’ll think of something.” 

Robin frowned a little. “I was hoping to get home sooner, rather than later,” he mumbled. 

“You may have to be patient,” Hawke said. “Or, maybe Anders will dig something up and we’ll have you sent home sooner. For now, exercise those waiting skills.” 

Robin sighed. “I guess I don’t have much choice.” 

“You do not,” Fenris agreed. “In the meantime, you may occupy yourself with housework. That seems to keep you busy.” 

Robin started to laugh. Fenris was right, it did keep him busy. His errant mind had already wandered back to the idea of moving from the kitchen into the front hall and getting rid of some of the debris that had been left to lie around. “I guess that doesn’t seem too bad, for now,” Robin admitted. 

Hawke looked pensive. “I was informed this morning that we will be able to move into the Amell estate in a few days. I’ll be around Hightown a lot more after that, so you will want to lay low.”

“Stay inside the mansion, got it,” Robin said. He realized he sounded a bit annoyed at the idea of being cooped up inside for who knew how long, but he _was_ aware that if their plan was going to work, he couldn’t be seen in the same place as Hawke. “I feel like my future is going to involve lots of sneaking around…”

“Probably,” Hawke admitted. 

“There are worse fates,” Fenris said. 

Robin nodded. He yawned once more and shook himself. They were nearly back at the manor, and he decided that any further discussions of their plans, and his ‘disguise,’ could wait until the next day, at the very least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my lordy, I'm so sorry it took so long to update. I rewrote this chapter three times over the past few months because nothing was sticking...and only just managed to get an idea of where I wanted to go with this fanfiction, and had to rewrite it again! 
> 
> But here it is, Chapter seven! And hopefully I will manage to get chapter eight out before the end of the year, as well. 
> 
> I went back and fixed/rewrote some stuff (and am still working on this) in the earlier chapters to account for some changes I made between the last update and this one. Nothing major, but just changing some descriptions so that Robin and Hawke's resemblance becomes more apparent, and so that things stay cohesive. I want to apologize in advance for plot holes and continuity errors! I have the worst memory and sometimes I just can't reread past chapters each time I sit down to work on the new one... This will become more of a problem later, especially, as the fic grows in length (which it is going to). 
> 
> Isabela appeared in this chapter! I love her a lot, but I'm not too good at writing her - so hopefully I didn't butcher her character that much :X Will Robin ever get to the Keep library? Who knows! But shit gets real next chapter (I hope), so be prepared...
> 
> I hope all of you have a wonderful winter holiday. Get lots of rest, watch some good movies. Thank-you for reading this far, and I hope to see you next chapter!


	8. Mother Hawke

Robin grunted as Fenris’ shield caught him in the side. He was pretty sure that he’d manage to keep his balance that time, but the blow did its job and knocked him onto his ass. His own shield went flying somewhere to his left and he only just managed to hold on to the piece of wood he was using in lieu of a sword. 

That was the fifth time Fenris had managed to knock him down. 

“I think you’re cheating,” Robin grumbled and scowled up at Fenris, who just looked down at him with a rather blank expression. It was almost infuriating. Robin had broken out into a sweat almost immediately, and Fenris looked like he was out for a walk in the park. Robin squinted. “You are _definitely_ cheating.” 

Fenris tucked his own practice sword under his arm and offered his free hand to Robin. “Falling down teaches you how to get back up,” he said calmly as he dragged Robin back to his feet. 

“Right.” Robin sighed. “Gotta get right back in the saddle,” he grumbled. He let go of Fenris’ hand and looked around for his shield, which had slid under a bench. There was a large vase with a very dead plant next to it. The only decorations in the little courtyard of the crumbling estate. Robin frowned at the plant as he pulled his shield out from under the bench. 

“Are there greenhouses in Kirkwall?” Robin asked. 

“Greenhouses?” 

Robin looked back to Fenris. “Yeah, like where you’d buy plants. For planting.” 

Fenris shook his head. “I do not know. Perhaps Hawke might, or the Dalish girl.” He took his sword up again and got back into stance, gesturing at Robin to do the same. 

Robin sighed. It had been nearly a week since he had seen Hawke. He’d said he would be busy moving into the Amell estate, and he had meant it. Varric had showed up a few times to pass on news - nothing promising in terms of getting Robin home, but he had _stories_ of Hawke trying to get all the moving settled. As it turned out, there was more furniture stored in the vaults under the estate than Hawke had anticipated and his mother was throwing a fit trying to put everything back into its place. 

Without Hawke around to push plans into action, Robin had spent most of the week cleaning out his new bedroom and getting to work with Fenris and Isabela on fighting lessons. He liked the sessions with only Fenris the best, as he was more patient and less prone to making jokes about _swordplay_ than Isabela was. Try as he might, though, he was struggling to be grateful for all the effort. He wasn’t _ungrateful_ , he was just numb towards the idea that he might be stuck in Kirkwall for who knew how long, and so anything done to help him cope with living there was done in a sort of haze. 

A haze that was proving to be a hindrance to his learning. Once he was in position again, Fenris rushed him and Robin only just managed to remember to raise his shield in time to block. Fenris’ sword _thunked_ against the shield and Robin grunted again as Fenris followed up with a light blow to his side. 

“You’re distracted,” Fenris pointed out when he stepped back. He didn’t relent, though, and came in for another attack. “Focus on the fight.” 

Robin squared his shoulders. This time, he managed to glance the blow off his shield and follow through with a counter. He missed Fenris entirely, but it was something. 

One of the first things Isabela had taught him was that fights rarely lasted as long as one thought they would. Robin had learnt very quickly that she was right, so when he saw Fenris swooping in again - God, he was fast - he took a gamble. He crashed his own shield against Fenris’ and dropped his sword. He grabbed for Fenris’ wrist, caught it, and pulled. 

They both crashed to the ground, but Robin managed to use his size to his advantage and get on top, his shield pressed into Fenris’ chest to keep him down. Both of them were still, Robin felt almost eerily calm as he glowered down at the elf, then the tension broke and Fenris laughed under his breath. 

“Congratulations on your first win,” Fenris said. 

His voice was a little rougher than usual. Robin hastily lifted the shield so he wasn’t pressing down on Fenris’ ribcage with most of his weight. Fenris coughed, but he didn’t seem to be hurt. “When you focus, you’re actually a competent fighter,” Fenris added once he’d cleared his throat. 

Robin grumbled. He stood himself up, his turn to offer a hand-up to Fenris, who took it without complaint. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Robin asked. 

“You’re still thinking of home.” The voice came from the courtyard door and interrupted Fenris before he could get a word out. 

Robin looked around as Isabela sauntered in. He frowned at her. 

“Hello, boys, sorry if I interrupted you two having a moment.” She winked at Robin.

He rolled his eyes, and said, “We weren’t having a moment.” 

“There were no moments being had,” Fenris confirmed. “Did you break in?” 

“Fenris, darling, you don’t lock your doors. Besides, there was no way you’d hear me knock all the way out here.” Isabela waved her hand. She went over to the bench and sat down. She gave the wilted plants a small look before she continued on. “Is training going well?” 

“I managed to get Fenris down,” Robin said. He flushed a little at the small round of applause Isabela gave him in response. “It wasn’t that impressive.” 

“Had I been holding a real sword, you would have lost some fingers,” Fenris informed him. 

Robin paled a little. He hadn’t really considered the addition of real, sharp blades into the mix yet. “Oh,” he said. 

“Don’t be mean to him, he’s doing his best. And considering you weren’t, I think we can count that as a win.” Isabela waved her hand. “Now, are you two finished? I have a summons from Lord Hawke and am supposed to bring you to his royal estate.” 

Robin sighed. “Well, I guess I can get back to cleaning. There’s still some holes in the wall of my room to patch up, and I was going to sweep out the pantry-” 

“Actually, Hawke wants both of you. And he said to wear something nice, you’ll be meeting his mother.” 

“His mother?” Fenris asked. He sounded wary. 

Robin had only heard stories about the elder Hawke. She seemed like she was quite the matriarch, and a little set in her ways. He wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of being introduced to her. Especially given that they’d never settled on how to explain who he was to people not in the know about the whole _other dimension_ deal. 

Isabela just shrugged. “It’s what he said, and you know that he doesn’t like to be questioned. Varric’s the only one who can get away with that. Anyway, if we hurry, we’ll make it in time for lunch and you know Bodahn makes those excellent meat pies.” 

“Lunch would be good,” Robin conceded. He looked at Fenris, who only shrugged in reply. 

“Give us a minute to get changed out of this stuff,” Robin said and tugged at the collar of his sweaty tunic. There was no way he was going to be presented to anyone respectable while he was drenched in his own sweat. 

Isabela chuckled. “While I do think the sweaty look is good on you, that’s probably wise. Leandra might chase you out if you look too much like some Darktown refugee… though, she lets Anders in the house, so I might be mistaken.” 

Robin shook his head at her joke. 

“I’ll wait for you two in the kitchen, but if you take too long I’m leaving without you.” Isabela stood up and, with a little wave, disappeared back into the estate. 

Robin looked at Fenris, who was watching the door with narrowed eyes. “What do you think Hawke has planned?” Robin asked. 

“It could be anything,” Fenris replied. 

Robin sighed. “Guess we’ll find out when we get there…”

&&&

Isabela let them into the Amell estate through a side door, that took them into a grand kitchen.

Robin tugged down his hood and looked around. The kitchen looked a lot like what he assumed the one at Fenris’ place had once looked like, back before a crazy Mage and disrepair had done its damage. Bigger, though, and with a warmer feel. There were two cooking hearths, and a huge table smack-dab in the centre of the room. One end was set up with chairs to eat at, while the other seemed to be reserved for food prep. Counters ran along the walls, and there was even a sink with a hand pump inside the kitchen - the one at Fenris’ place was in a corner of the yard, so you had to haul water into the house to use it. Robin was a little jealous. 

“I think they're all up in the library,” Isabela announced and headed out another door. 

Robin and Fenris followed her through a dining room, into a larger foyer. Robin only got a few seconds to look around, but he saw a lot of red and gold and he had a feeling that Hawke was going to like living here, even if he'd spent a lot of time grumbling about the process of acquiring the estate. 

“So, who exactly had this place before Hawke?” Robin asked Fenris in a whisper. 

“Slavers,” Fenris replied. He practically spat the word out, Robin could hear the anger in his voice. 

“Oh.” 

“His uncle lost it gambling,” Isabela added. “Don't bring him up, Hawke and Leandra are both still furious about having to live with him in Lowtown while they cleaned up his mess.” 

Robin glanced back over his shoulder at the grandeur of the entrance hall. “I think I'd be pretty pissed, too, if I knew what I was missing out on.” 

They'd reached the library door by then, and before Isabela could announce their arrival, a woman called from within. “Garrett? Is that you darling-” She stopped when they all stepped inside and stared at Robin, eyes wide. 

She was an elegant woman, and with just one look at her face, Robin knew this must be Hawke’s mother. 

“Leandra! Did we beat Garrett back?” Isabela asked as she swept into the room. 

Robin and Fenris both lingered at the door. Leandra hadn't taken her eyes off of Robin. 

“Well, he did have to go all the way to the keep,” Leandra murmured. “He should be back soon. Fenris, it is nice to see you again. And this must be Robin.” 

Robin caught Fenris’ nodded response out of the corner of his eye, and echoed the movement. He didn't really know what to do, or what to say. He didn't know how much Leandra knew. He didn't know how much Hawke wanted her to know. “Er, yes. That's me,” he said. 

He had to resist the urge to flee out the door. 

Leandra smiled, then. “I thought that Garrett was lying when he said he had a long-lost twin.” 

Robin was pretty sure he visibly relaxed, but he did his best to play it cool. “His beard is better than mine,” he said. 

“I see your sense of humour is similar to his.” Leandra chuckled. “Come in and sit down, you three. I’ll have Bodahn bring in drinks. Robin, what do you like? Tea? Something stronger?” 

“Tea is fine,” Robin grunted. He stepped away from the door and headed for one of the low couches that formed a little seating area in the middle of the library. 

Fenris followed him, and sat down next to him on the couch. He looked uncomfortable, his eyes darted around the room and he kept his hands pressed together in his lap. Robin didn't really blame him, the only thing holding him together was the need to maintain his poker face. 

“And what about the other two?” Leandra asked as she headed for the door. 

“Tea would be lovely, Leandra,” Isabela said and dropped down onto the couch opposite Robin and Fenris. She kicked up her feet and sprawled out across it, like she belonged there. 

“Tea, thank-you,” Fenris mumbled. He was looking at the bookshelves, of which there were many, it they were somewhat devoid of books. 

Robin could vaguely remember Hawke mentioning that a lot of the books had gone missing. A shame, Robin thought, and tried to imagine what the place would look like stuffed full of heavy tomes. He felt a little stir of excitement at the idea of seeing the Keep library. When he got there he would be doing work, not browsing their selection. He didn't have time to be excited. 

Leandra left them alone in the library to get their tea together, and Isabela immediately straightened herself up a little. 

“Hawke got a runner from the Viscount just as I was leaving. I thought he'd be back by now,” she said. 

Fenris flinched. “He doesn't plan to leave us alone with his mother, does he?” He asked, then dropped his voice and added, “I do not know how much about Robin he plans to tell his mother.” 

Well, at least Robin wasn't the only one being kept out of the loop. 

“I sure hope not, I don't want to have to deal with his mother until he gets back. You two are too awkward to handle that kind of social pressure.” Isabela winked at them both. 

Robin wrinkled his nose. “I'm not that awkward.” 

“His beard is better than mine?” Isabela quoted. 

“It's true,” Robin protested with a scowl. Not having shaved in a week had helped his beard fill out, but there were still a few places where his hair refused to fill in the gaps. 

Fenris snorted and Robin glared at him, too. The elf’s eyebrows raised a little. “It is hard to rival the majesty of Hawke’s beard,” he said. “But perhaps not the best way to introduce yourself to his mother…”

“I don't see you complaining, she called you awkward, too,” Robin grumbled. 

Fenris shook his head a little. “I am aware of my own shortcomings. Being awkward is… the least of my worries.” 

Something panged in Robin’s chest when Fenris said that. Without thinking, Robin reached over and patted Fenris on the shoulder. Fenris froze under his touch, and Robin was in the process of quickly removing his hand and forming an apology when Fenris relaxed a little and shot Robin a look. His eyebrows were raised and Robin was pretty sure he was smirking, subtle, but there. 

“I don't think you are in any position to offer sympathies,” Fenris said. 

Robin snorted. “Okay, fine. Y’all win.” He pulled his hand away and crossed his arms over his chest, then leaned back into the soft cushions of the couch. “So, we have no idea what Hawke wants, we might be trapped here with his mother, and this library is severely lacking in conversation pieces to distract us.” 

“We can just have Isabela tell one of her _stories_ ,” Fenris said. 

“You say that like they're not true!” Isabela feigned hurt. “All my adventures actually happened, I’m not like Varric. Making things up just for the attention.” 

“Embellishing, then.” Fenris quirked a brow up. 

“Maybe we should have you show off the magical fisting thing. I don't think Robin’s seen you do that, yet.” 

Robin choked. He coughed, laughing at the same time. “Magical what, now?” 

Fenris had gone a little red in the face. “Isabela-” 

“Yes, darling?” Isabela fluttered her eyelashes a little. The picture of innocence, if Robin had ever seen it. 

Fenris glared at her, but she remained unwavering and eventually his shoulders slumped a little in defeat. “Isabela enjoys making a joke out of it, but the lyrium allows me to move myself through objects.” 

Robin blinked. “Move through objects? Like magic?” 

This was obviously the wrong question, because Fenris scowled at him. “No, not like magic,” he snapped. “I'm no Mage.” 

“Right, sorry- I just… I don't get it,” Robin quickly covered for his blunder. “But that sounds useful.” 

Fenris sighed and the room fell into silence. Awkward silence, that made Robin fidget, as Isabela leered at them both from across the coffee table. 

They were saved when Leandra returned with a dwarf, carrying a tray of tea. He set this down on the table, greeted everyone, and then left the room. Robin watched him go, the concept of servants still incredibly foreign to himself. Fenris seemed uncomfortable, as well, and Robin wondered if it was because he, too, felt the the line between servitude and slavery was too thin. 

Leandra gestured for Isabela to sit up properly, which she did without complaint, and joined her on the couch. “No sign of Garrett yet, but once he arrives we can move to the dining room and have lunch.” 

“What do you think the viscount wanted with him?” Isabela asked. She picked up a tea cup from the table and smiled over the top of it. 

“Knowing my son’s reputation, I’m sure it’s something of the utmost importance.” Leandra sighed and picked up her own teacup. She took a sip, then turned her attention to Robin and Fenris. “Help yourself to tea, boys. There’s no need to be shy.” 

Robin started a little, then grabbed up one of the cups. They were made of delicate china and he felt more than a little awkward holding it. The tea in Kirkwall had taken a while to get used to, but he thought he was getting a hang of the taste. He took a long sip and used extra care to make sure he didn’t slurp. 

“Now, Robin. Where are you from?” Leandra asked, and when she didn’t notice all three of her guests freeze in place, she continued on. “Garrett has such an _interesting_ collection of friends, I’m sure you must have a similar story.”

“I, uh-” He looked first to Fenris, then to Isabela. They both just stared back at him. Robin hastily tried to remember back to what they’d been talking about with Varric. “Orlais, originally.” 

Leandra raised her eyebrows. “Really? I never would have guessed. I suppose I can hear the accent, though I assumed you were Ferelden.” 

Isabela choked on her tea. “Ferelden-?” 

“He moved there,” Fenris cut in. “To Ferelden,” he clarified when everyone turned to look at him. 

“Oh, yeah, when I was still quite young,” Robin amended and nonchalantly as he could managed. In an effort to make the conversation sound more natural, he added, “I only just moved to Kirkwall.”

“Oh really? The Blight didn’t push you north, then?”

Robin couldn’t remember what the Blight was, so he only shook his head. “No, I… came for work. With a merchant. I hadn’t planned to stay, but he left me behind and I had no way to get home on my own.” 

That sounded believable. He got a look from Isabela for it, but he kept his poker face in place. He wasn’t going to give anything away to Leandra, if he could help it. 

“Well, that is unfortunate! Garrett said that Anders brought you to him for help. I’m glad my son was able to get you settled here. Are you working to find your way home?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Robin replied with a little smile. 

Before they could continue on, there was some commotion from out in the foyer. They all looked around to the door as Hawke appeared, with a woman dressed in the uniform of the city’s guard in tow. Hawke beamed at them all, while the woman eyed both Robin and Isabela suspiciously. 

“I see you’ve met Robin, mother! I’m sorry to cut this short, but Aveline and I need a word with him and Fenris. Bela, would you mind keeping mother company?” Hawke gestured back out the library door. “It will only take a minute.” 

Isabela pouted. “What? I don’t get to scheme with you lot?” 

“We are not scheming,” Aveline snapped. She sounded very serious, probably came with being a guard, Robin thought. 

He and Fenris got up, their tea cups forgotten on the table. Robin gave Leandra a smile, “Sorry, we can get back to this when we’re done.” 

“Of course, dear,” Leandra replied. “Garrett, you better not be getting this boy into trouble.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Hawke said with a huge grin as he stepped aside for Fenris and Hawke to follow Aveline out into the foyer. He closed the library door behind them. 

“So?” Robin asked when they were back in the kitchen, safely out of earshot from the library. 

Aveline crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a _look_. The kind of look Robin suspected a cop would give a would-be criminal, to deter them from committing a potential crime. Robin didn’t think he liked being looked at like that, so he scowled back at her. 

Hawke ran a hand through his messy hair. “I have two problems, both of which need to be dealt with rather urgently. It looks like you’re in luck, we’re going to be able to be able to test out this doppelganger thing sooner than expected.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday tomorrow, so to celebrate I'm publishing Chapter 8! This leads directly into Chapter 9, which I hope to get done this weekend and posted some time next week (or on Saturday, as I use writing fanfic to procrastinate boring college work). With the way things are going, the plot should actually start to advance and some fun stuff should start to happen. We'll see. No promises there, but I can promise you that neither Robin, nor Hawke, are going to be happy campers next chapter :^)


	9. Nosebleeds

“Two problems?” Robin asked. 

Beside him, Fenris crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his gaze on Hawke. “Why do you need Robin to deal with them?” he asked. 

Robin nodded, with a frown. “Yeah, that too.” 

Hawke sat down at the table and rested his elbows on the wood top. He didn't say anything for some time. Robin realized he was probably waiting for them to join him, so he walked over and dragged a chair out from the table. It scraped across the floor, making a noise that caused both Fenris and Aveline to bristle. Robin dropped into it, crossed his arms over his chest, and gestured for the others to join them. 

Fenris sat down to Robin's left, and Aveline across from both of them. She hadn't said anything yet, and her scowl was still fixed on Robin.

“Right,” Hawke said with a sigh. “Fenris, you remember that booky I got mixed up with before we left for the Deep Roads.” 

Fenris nodded. “I don't like where this is going, Hawke.” 

“Yeah, me neither...” Hawke turned to face Robin. “He's doing a shake down of my old connections in Lowtown, looking for me. Apparently, he thinks I still owe him money.” 

“Do you?” Robin asked. 

“No.” Hawke dropped his hand to the table and drummed his fingers across the surface. “I borrowed the last ten sovereigns I needed to pay Bartrand, paid him back in full with interest the minute we returned. That was two years ago, but apparently now that I've got a place in Hightown and a title to go with it, he feels entitled to more of my hard-earned coin.” 

“I can send the guard after him, Hawke,” Aveline informed him. “You don't have to go bash in heads anymore.” 

Hawke shook his head. “I don't want anyone to think you're playing favourites,” he replied. “It shouldn't be too hard for Varric, Anders, and I to deal with it.” 

“Okay, but that's just one problem,” Robin pointed out. He really hoped that Hawke wasn't planning to get him into a fight. He was wildly unprepared, and he'd rather not die at the hands of some thug. 

“The other problem is a little trickier,” Hawke admitted. “Sadly, they both need to be dealt with immediately. As in, today, or else I'll have some very powerful people breathing down the back of my neck.” 

Robin frowned. “So, what is it?” 

“The Arishok has a job for me, and I need to go meet with him.” 

“Hawke-” Fenris started, but stopped himself. He looked like he was considering his words. “Tricking the Arishok is a bad idea.” 

“I need Robin to go meet with him,” Hawke continued, as if he hadn't even heard what Fenris was saying, “While I go clear up the problem with Dougal. Before Meeran decides I'm too much trouble, and sends his goons after _me_.” 

“I've already tried to convince him it's a bad idea,” Aveline said. “But, I agreed to go with Robin to the compound. If he is willing to go, that is.” She scowled in Robin's direction again. 

Robin was mostly caught up with the conversation, but he was pretty sure he was missing some vital bits of information, so he asked, “What's an Arishok?” 

“He's the leader of the Qunari who are holed up near the docks,” Hawke explained. “We had some dealings with him in the past, and it seems that he's...impressed, by me.” 

“Shouldn't you be the one to go, then?” Robin asked. “I don't want to piss off someone that important. He is important, right?” 

“Very,” Fenris grunted. 

“Yeah, see, I don't like the sound of that.” Robin narrowed his eyes at Hawke. “I think you're just trying to use me to be two places at once.” 

Hawke glared right back. “Listen, we need to test out Isabela's theory. The Arishok never got a close look at me. If we darken up your hair, he'll never know the difference. You'll have Aveline and Fenris with you, and the Arishok _likes_ Fenris. He speaks Qun. All you have to do is find out what he wants, then you can leave.” 

When Hawke explained it like that, Robin didn't think it sounded all that bad. He might have been going crazy, but it even seemed doable. He looked over at Fenris. “What do you think?” 

Fenris looked a little frustrated, which seemed to be directed at Hawke more than anything else. “I think that this is a bad idea,” he said slowly, “but if you insist on going, I will go with you.” 

Robin nodded, then looked to Aveline. He didn't even have to ask, she was nodding before he could open his mouth. “I already agreed to this hair-brained scheme,” Aveline said. “I'll go.” 

“Well, it looks like I don't have much choice... What do I need to do to get ready?” Robin asked. 

“Darken your hair,” Hawke said. He paused, and wrinkled up his nose. Robin did not like the expression he was making, at all. “And... your nose.”

Robin's eyes widened. “What? No. We're not breaking it.” 

“You need the scar,” Hawke said. He touched the line of red, damaged skin that ran across the bridge of his nose. “It'll be too noticeable if you don't have it.” 

"Can't we just draw it on?" Robin asked. He looked around at all of them, though by the frowns on all their faces he came to the conclusion that it wasn't an option. 

"We could, but it won't look right," Hawke explained. "It's got a pucker to it." 

There was another long, drawn-out pause as Robin considered this. 

“We are not breaking his nose without a proper healer here,” Aveline informed Hawke when the silence had drawn on too long for anyone's liking.

He couldn't find any way to protest, and knew that it was a necessary move if he wanted to get into the library to try and find a way home. The more he looked like Hawke, the better. He groaned and rubbed at his nose, in anticipation of the pain that was sure to come. “Anders _needs_ to be present. Or, better yet, the one to do it. No offence, but I don't trust any of you not to fuck up.” 

Hawke laughed. “I had a feeling you'd request his presence. I already sent someone to get him, he should be here soon enough.”

“In the meantime, you should work on darkening his hair,” Aveline said. She looked at Hawke, squinting. “You do have something to do that with, don't you?” 

“We do,” Hawke replied. 

“Your mother is going to be suspicious about all of this,” Aveline pointed out. “It may be better to do this elsewhere.” 

“Good point. We can't have Isabela babysit my mother all morning... Fenris, may we-” 

“I don't want the mage in my house,” Fenris hissed. 

Robin groaned inwardly. This argument, again. He dragged a hand through his hair and sat back in his chair. “Can we not fight about this, please,” he demanded. “According to Hawke, we need to get this done today, and the day isn't getting any shorter.” 

Hawke chuckled, which earned him what appeared to be a kick under the table from Aveline. He grunted and glared at her. “Aveline!” 

“Robin is right, we don't have time for this. I'll distract your mother while Robin takes care of his hair. Lend him some of your armour, as well. Then go deal with the Red Irons, preferably take Isabela with you so I don't have to deal with her today.” Aveline stood up and motioned at Hawke to do the same. 

Hawke sighed. He stood and gestured back at the kitchen door. “Fine, come with me, then. We'll use my room. It's the most private place in the estate.” He paused. “I hope you don't mind dogs.”

Robin quirked a brow up. “Dog?”

&&&

Anders showed up just as Robin was rinsing out his hair. He slipped into the room and stopped dead when he saw Fenris and the dog sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. Robin watched him try to process the scene: Fenris, legs crossed, gauntlets off, rubbing the dog's belly as she stretched out and squirmed on her back in front of him. They'd been in the same position for some time, after the mabari had guilted Fenris into giving her attention by licking at his wrists and giving him the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes Robin had ever seen.

“Hello,” Robin said after a moment of Fenris and Anders staring each other down, as if Fenris was daring Anders to say something. Anders started and looked over at Robin. 

“I- Hello. The dark hair suits you,” Anders said. He set down the pack he'd brought with him and skirted around Fenris and the dog to where Robin was, standing in front of the wash basin. “Are you certain you want to go through with this? It's going to hurt, I can only do so much to numb the pain.” 

Taking that to mean Anders had already been filled in by Hawke and the others, Robin just nodded. “I've got no other choice, have I?” 

“I think you actually have lots of choices,” Anders informed him in a dry tone. “This is just the one that works best for _Hawke_.”

Robin frowned. He hadn't thought about the plan that way, hadn't even considered that Hawke might have ulterior motives. When he considered it, there were lots of reasons someone might want a body double around – especially someone like Hawke. 

Anders didn't seem to notice that Robin had gotten lost in his own thoughts, and continued to talk. “I haven't had a chance to see you since you went to Darktown, but there are other options. Other places we could look for information-”

“No one is breaking into the Gallows, apostate,” Fenris growled from the floor. He stood up and fixed Anders with a look that suggested they'd maybe had this conversation before. 

Robin was suddenly aware that he was trapped in a room with two people who _really_ did not get along, and he wanted to be anywhere else. Regrettably, Fenris was between him and the door, so instead he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at them in some hope that they'd get the hint to not start a full-blown brawl in Hawke's bedroom. 

“Someone in there may know something, if we could talk to the Grand Enchanter-” 

“No,” Fenris cut in. “It's not an option.” 

“Just because you hate mages, doesn't mean Robin has to! I told Hawke that having him stay with you was a bad idea-”

“Anders, please.” Robin gave up with looking intimidating and decided it was time to step in. “Let's just deal with this. We can fight later.” 

He really didn't want to start hating the guy, but Anders was proving to be exactly the kind of person Fenris had warned him he was. Though, it seemed to be something in the elf that brought out that side of Anders' personality, so Robin was doing his very best to not hold it against him. When all he got in return was silence, he carried on. “We can talk about the Gallows, I don't know anything about them and I'd like to be informed. But for now, we still need to test this theory and I still want to get into the Keep to look around.” 

“All...right...” Anders sighed. “Let's get this over with, then. Before you get cold feet and decide that you don't want me to.” 

He walked back to the pack and pulled out some supplies that looked like the basic stuff you'd find in a medical kit. Gauze, bandages, some envelopes that Robin had a feeling contained medicine, and a solid board of some light coloured wood. The thing he'd be using to make a mimic of the scar over Hawke's nose. Robin grimaced when he walked back with all of this in hand. 

Anders frowned at him. “You'll want to sit down. And... Fenris might want to hold you still. If he doesn't mind.” 

“I don't.” Fenris got up and followed Robin to the bed. He paused. “Should we get Hawke?” 

Robin was about to protest, as he really didn't want too many people to witness him get slammed in the face with a piece of wood and probably cry like a baby, but the door opened and Hawke arrived, as if summoned by the mere mention of his name. 

“Oh good, I didn't miss it,” Hawke said. He stepped over the dog, who had not left her place on the floor, and grinned at Robin. “We're going to be twins!” 

“Hardly,” Anders said. “But it'll be close enough to fool anyone not paying attention. Can you help Fenris keep him upright, since you're here?” 

Hawke raised his eyebrows. “Healer Anders comes out to play. I haven't heard that tone in ages.” 

Anders rolled his eyes. “That's because I told you to stop coming around the clinic. You make too much of a scene. Hold him, please.” 

Hawke and Fenris gripped Robin once he'd sat down on the edge of Hawke's bed. He closed his eyes and braced himself, not really sure what to expect. He felt something cold spread across his nose. His face tingled a little. “What was that?” 

“An elfroot poultice. It'll numb the pain, but this is still going to hurt.” 

Robin nodded. Then he felt the board. Anders lined it up across the bridge of his nose, so that the sharp corner dug into Robin's face. Fenris moved a hand to the base of Robin's skull to hold his head still, as Robin had instinctively tried to pull away. It was like resting his head against the softest stone wall he'd ever felt; Robin had a feeling he'd been underestimating Fenris' strength this entire time. 

The feel of Fenris' palm against the back of his head was a nice distraction, though. 

It happened all at once, with a sickening crunch. There was no pain for about a second, and then Robin howled. The cartilage snapped and tore. Robin opened his eyes, only to have to close them again when the tears started. He slumped forward, and Hawke's arm across his shoulders kept him from falling to the floor. 

There was also blood. A lot of it. 

“Holy fucking Christ,” Robin moaned. He repeated it again, for good measure. Someone laughed, and he wasn't sure if it was Hawke, or Anders, but he wanted to punch them. 

“Hold on, I'll heal it a little. I can't heal it all the way, or else that would defeat the purpose.” Anders pressed some gauze to Robin's face to soak up the blood that was cascading out of his nose. Robin still had his eyes closed, so he couldn't see what Anders was doing, but the tingle returned. It was different this time, more like electricity. Magic, he determined after a moment, based in part by the way Fenris stiffened behind him.

“Well, that was entertaining,” Hawke said. 

“Ha, ha,” Robin replied sarcastically, but he was mostly ignored. 

“I should be on my way. Already wasted too much time here. Aveline has the instructions from the Viscount, just act natural and don't do anything I wouldn't do.” Hawke patted Robin on the shoulder and got up. 

“Where am I meeting you?” Anders called out, presumably after Hawke, who had already headed for the door. 

“Hanged Man! Don't take too long, we'll need to move quickly before Dougal finds out I'm in Lowtown and brings the fight to us.” 

Robin heard the door close, and hesitantly opened his eyes. Anders had a hand over Robin's nose, and blue light flickered off his palm. There were even some little sparks dancing off of Robin's skin. He shut his eyes again. He was so caught up in the pain and blood that he hadn't noticed that Fenris was still supporting him. 

“I'm fine now, Fenris,” he grunted, so that the elf could let go. He did, but only after a moments hesitation and what might have been a nod from Anders. Robin was pretty sure he’d heard Anders mumble something, but there was a dull ringing noise in his ears and it was difficult to focus pass it. 

After a few moments of silence, Anders pulled his hand away. “There,” he said and took the gauze from Robin. He handed him a clean cloth, instead. “Go clean up your face. Just be careful around the wound.” 

“Thanks,” Robin grumbled. 

His voice sounded a bit off, more nasally than it had been before Anders had slammed a board into his face. He stood up and tottered over to the washing basin, dipped a cloth in the water, and started to clean off his face. When he pulled the cloth away it was red with blood, but his face at least looked a little better. There was a clean scar over the bridge of his nose, almost identical to the one Hawke had. He pressed it gingerly with his fingers and winced when the pain returned, fresh and sharp. 

“Here,” Anders said and passed him an envelope. “Chew that and it will take the edge off.” 

Robin peered into the envelope and found some dried leaves inside. He fished one out and put it between his teeth. It tasted bitter, but he could endure that if it meant that his nose would stop throbbing. “You really outdid yourself,” Robin mumbled. “Looks exactly like Hawke's.” 

Anders chuckled. “Well, I was there when it happened. Hawke's just an idiot, and wouldn't let me heal it until I'd tended to everyone else...” He shook his head, then leaned in to inspect Robin's nose again. “That's going to be tender for some time, just keep an eye on it and tell me if it starts to swell.”

“Sure,” Robin grumbled. 

Anders patted Robin on the shoulder, then packed up his bag and stashed it under Hawke's bed. “I should be off. You...Be careful, alright?” 

Robin nodded and smiled. He didn't know what else to say, so he just kept chewing his elfroot leaves. Anders gave him a look, as if he was assessing Robin's general state, and whatever he saw there must have been satisfactory because he shrugged and headed for the door. “See you, then. Good luck.” He nodded to Fenris, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed, but said nothing in terms of goodbye to him. 

“How do you feel?” Fenris asked, once Anders left. 

Robin thought about the question for a moment. His face hurt, he was filled with anxious buzzing over having to go visit the leader of some foreign embassy, and he was homesick. That last one, he hadn't really realized, until he'd found himself wishing he had an Advil to take the edge off his pain a little faster than the elfroot was working. He sighed. “I've been better, but I think if I start complaining, I'll just end up more miserable than I am.” 

“I understand,” Fenris said. He stood up, and looked back at the bed. Hawke had laid out some clothes for Robin, and a spare set of armour. 

Robin had been ignoring it until then, as he really had no want to struggle into the pieces of plate mail. He came over to the bed and picked up one of the gauntlets. His brows were knit as he tried to figure out how all the straps worked. “I have no idea where to start with all this,” he muttered. “Gauntlets?” 

“You'll want the gambeson, first,” Fenris said and gestured to a padded, sleeveless shirt. “Then go from there.” 

Robin sighed heavily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended this chapter to be longer, but I decided to publish it as is because If Wishes Were Horses was overdue for an update. Thanks for reading! See you all at the next update. :)


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